Star Wars: Darth Plagueis: The Empire Ascendant
by WordSmith1994
Summary: An AU that takes place after the events of James Luceno's "Darth Plagueis", in which Plagueis survives that fateful night on Coruscant. How does that major change affect the Star Wars timeline? Draws on elements of both Legends and Disney Canon. Prior knowledge of the events of "Darth Plagueis" by James Luceno is highly recommended. Please feel free to leave a review.
1. A New Day Breaks

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away …_

 **STAR WARS: Darth Plagueis: The Empire Ascendant**

 **PART ONE**

 **Gathering Storm**

 **32-29 BBY**

 **Chapter One**

 **A New Day Breaks**

Plagueis had given the Sun Guards the night off, and the only other intelligence in the sprawling apartment was the droid 11-4D, their servant for the occasion, pouring wine into expensive glassware as they removed their cloaks.

"Sullustan," Plagueis said, holding the glass up to the light and swirling its claret contents. "More than half a century old."

"A toast, then," Sidious said. "To the culmination of decades of brilliant planning and execution."

"And to the new meaning we will tomorrow impart to the Rule of Two."

They drained their glasses, and 11-4D immediately refilled them.

"Only you could have brought this to fruition, Darth Plagueis," Sidious said, settling into a chair. "I will endeavour to live up to your expectations and fulfil my responsibility."

Plagueis took the compliment in stride, neither haughty nor embarrassed. "With my guidance and your charisma, we will soon be in a position to initiate the final act of the Grand Plan." Making himself more comfortable on the couch, he signalled for 11-4D to open a second bottle of the vintage. "Have you given thought to what you will say tomorrow?"

"I have prepared some remarks," Sidious said. "Shall I spoil the surprise?"

"Why not."

Sidious took a moment to compose himself. "To begin, I thought I would say, that, while we in the Senate have managed to keep the Republic intact for a thousand years, we would never have been able to do so without the assistance of a few beings, largely invisible to the public eye, whose accomplishments now need to be brought into the light of day."

Plagueis smiled. "I'm pleased. Go on."

Speaking in a low monotone, Sidious said, "Hego Damask is one of those beings. It was Hego Damask who was responsible for overseeing development of the Republic Reserve Administration and for providing financial support for the Resettlement Acts that enabled beings to blaze new hyperspace routes to the outlying systems and colonise distant worlds."

"That will come as a revelation to some."

"In a similar fashion, it was Hego Damask who transformed the Trade Federation – "

"No, no," Plagueis interrupted. "Now is not the time to mention the Trade Federation."

"I thought – "

"I don't see any problem with calling attention to the arrangement I facilitated between the Republic and the Corporate Alliance and the Techno Union. But we must take care to avoid areas of controversy."

"Of course," Sidious said, as if chastised. "I was speaking off the top of my head."

"Try a different approach."

So Sidious did.

And as the night wore on, he continued to amend and improvise, touching on Damask's childhood on Mygeeto and on the elder Damask's contributions to the InterGalactic Banking Clan during his term as co-chair. Wineglass in hand, Sidious paced the richly carpeted floor, often vacillating between confidence and misgiving. More than once, Plagueis voiced satisfaction with everything he heard, but he urged Sidous to save his energy for the morning. By then, though, Sidious was too wound up to heed the advice and kept reworking the order of the remarks and the emphasis he gave to certain points.

The droid brought out a third, then a fourth bottle of the Sullustan wine.

Pleasantly intoxicated, Plagueis, who had wanted nothing more than to revel in the sweet taste of victory, was beginning to find his collaborator's performance exhausting, and wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and drift into imaginings of his march into the Senate Rotunda; the looks of surprise, astonishment, and trepidation on the faces of the gathered Senators; his long-anticipated emergence from the shadows; his ascension to galactic power …

Unfortunately, Sidious wouldn't let him.

"That's enough for now," Plagueis tried one final time. "You should probably return home and get a least a few hours' rest before – "

"Just one more time – from the beginning."

"The beginning?"

"Lord Plagueis, you said you wouldn't rest until our win was a matter of fact."

"So it is, and so I shall, Darth Sidious."

"Then let us celebrate that, as well." Sidious beckoned to 11-4D. "Fill our glasses, droid."

With dreamy weariness beginning to get the better of him, it was all Plagueis could do to lift the glass to his nose. No sooner did he set the drink down than it tipped over, saturating the tablecloth. His eyelids began to flicker and close, and his breathing slowed. In twenty years of never having had to contend with Plagueis in a state of sleep, the transpirator clicked repeatedly in adjustment, almost as if in panic.

A few meters distant, Sidious came to a halt, gazing at Plagueis for a long moment, as though making up his mind about something. Then, blowing out his breath, he set his own glass down and reached for the cloak he had draped over a chair, Swirling it around himself, he started for the door, only to stop shortly before he reached it. Turning and stretching out with the Force, he glanced around the room, as one might to fix a memory in the mind. Briefly his gaze fell on the droid, its glowing photoreceptors whirring to regard him in evident curiosity.

A look of sinister purpose contorted Sidious's face.

Again, his eyes darted around the room, and the Dark Side whispered:

 _Your election assured, the Sun Guards absent, Plagueis unsuspecting and asleep …_

Moving back toward the sleeping Muun, intent on seizing his rightful place in the galaxy, Sidious let the Dark Side build within him until it was a veritable storm that buffeted at his very being, desperate to be unleashed. He readied himself, savouring his moment of triumph.

And then a sense of a sudden loss interrupted his thoughts, and at that precise moment, Plagueis's eyes opened with a snap, yellow and staring. Sidious killed the dark storm within him in a heartbeat, but still he wondered.

 _Does he know? Can he sense it?_

Plagueis stood and closed the distance between them in just two short steps.

 _He does not know, then,_ Sidious decided. _He would have killed me on the instant._

"Can you feel it?" Plagueis asked. "There has been a great shift in the Force."

Sidious called on the Force to show him what had caused the seismic tremor that had startled Plagueis awake, and distracted Sidious long enough to halt him in his murderous intent.

"Maul," he said after a few moments of silence. "Maul is dead."

Even as he said the words, he knew that they were true.

"Naboo?" Plagueis asked, and Sidious nodded. "We will need to find a new attack hound."

"Leave that to me, Lord Plagueis," Sidious said.

Plagueis stared at him intensely. "The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic can hardly be seen to consort with the kind of violent animal we will need for our purposes," he said to Sidious as though in remonstrance. "Senator Palpatine was able to go unnoticed on Dathomir, yes, but that will no longer be the case. There will scarcely be a place in the galaxy that your face, and mine, will not be recognised." He paused for breath, a long inhalation that made the transpirator click. "I leave this in your more-than capable hands, Darth Sidious," he said after he had recovered. "But I caution you against any direct involvement."

Sidious inclined his head. "I am grateful for your trust, Lord Plagueis."

"And now," said Plagueis, "home. We have a momentous day before us tomorrow."

"We do indeed," Sidious agreed, making his way toward the apartment door. "I will see you at the Rotunda then?"

"At the Rotunda."

And with that, the two Sith Lords parted company.

* * *

The day dawned bright and warm, as Weather Control had been ordered to ensure it always was on Inauguration Day. On Coruscant and across the galaxy, trillions of beings waited anxiously to see the results of that year's election. Sheev Palpatine of Naboo was the favourite to win, though there was hope among his detractors that the Alderaanian Bail Antilles, or else the Gran Senator Ainlee Teem, might just be able to edge him out and claim the prize for themselves.

The citizens of a hundred and more worlds had cast their votes, and the Senators were left with the decision of whether to abide by the instructions of those whom they represented. Most did, for they had re-election to consider, but there were rogues in every election, and it was to them that bribes, favours and threats flowed most easily and in the greatest torrent.

Hego Damask had, therefore, ensured that truly astronomical sums of money had been transferred into all of the right bank accounts, and that those in receipt of such generosity knew precisely from where their newfound fortune had originated, and what was expected of them in return – and of the consequences of any treachery. Invited to the Counting as repayment of a favour by San Hill of the InterGalactic Banking Clan, Damask arrived at the Senate Complex early in the day, and immediately made his presence known.

"I was delighted to hear of the success of the Naboo and the Jedi Order against the Trade Federation," he told Senator Aun Mothma of Chandrila as they waited with hundreds of others to be permitted entry to the Senate Chamber. "Hopefully now, under the auspices of a new Chancellor, the Republic will be able to return to the calm that we have enjoyed for a thousand years."

Mothma nodded his head. "It is rather astonishing that the Naboo and the Gungans were able to defeat the might of the Federation's private armies without Republic intervention. As I understand it even the Jedi's presence was unofficial. Happenstance, really."

"Fortunate, indeed," Damask said. He spied Palpatine and attracted his attention. "Senator Palpatine," he said as the two of them came together and grasped hands. "I was just telling the good Senator from Chandrila how very pleased I am at the resolution of the terrible events that have beset your homeworld."

Palpatine smiled, the picture of mingled gratitude and pain.

"I thank you, Magister," he said, inclining his head to underline his words. "I am delighted that the plight of my homeworld is at an end, and I hope that I will from today be able to ensure that no other worlds are so tormented."

"I wish you luck," Mothma said, as he too shook Palpatine's hand. "I am obligated to vote as my constituents have bade me, but personally you have my support. The Republic could do a lot worse than Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine."

"I thank you for saying so, Senator," Palpatine replied with humility in his voice. "I am sure that however they have voted, the beings of Chandrila have done so mindfully and with conscience."

As Palpatine and Mothma remarked on the fineness of the day, Damask looked across the plaza, where by now hundreds of Senators, invited guests, notable individuals, staffers and journalists were milling about with a mounting air of excitement and anticipation, and spotted Palpatine's rival nominee, the handsome and austere Bail Antilles. He was flanked by his fellow Alderaanian representative in the Senate, the dark-haired and bearded Prince Bail Organa, as well as by the well-built, middle-aged Senator Garm Bel-Iblis of Corellia, who had been a key ally of Antilles during the campaign.

Damask flicked his eyes in the group's directions, and Palpatine noticed and knew immediately what he was to do.

"Senators," Palpatine said to Antilles and his cohorts as he walked over to them. He shook the hand of each of them in turn, Antilles last of all, and both Palpatine and Damask were gratified to see HoloNet cams by the dozen capturing the moment for all the galaxy to see. "I wish you good fortune today, Bail," Palpatine said, and it was lost on nobody that he had used Antilles's given-name. "The Republic would be fortunate indeed to call you its Chancellor after today's proceedings."

Antilles returned Palpatine's smile, managing to make it seem genuine enough for the cams, though in fact Damask knew Antilles to be a man for whom no slight was ever forgotten, even if it was forgiven.

 _Let him seethe,_ Damask thought. _What significance is he now?_

"Good to see you, Sheev," Antilles replied, using Palpatine's given name as Palpatine had used his own. "I thank you for your wish of good fortune, and I extend the same to you."

It was all very proper, Damask reflected, but too much so. The Alderaanian sounded almost like a protocol droid, and his hopes for a landslide victory rose slightly. He strode over himself, and all eyes flicked to him.

"Magister," Antilles said as they shook hands. "It is good to see you on this fine morning."

"And you as well, Senator," Damask responded. "Well met, Senator Bel-Iblis." Garm Bel-Iblis wordlessly shook Damask's proffered hand, which then moved on to Organa. "Your Highness."

"Good day, Magister," Bail Organa replied, even going so far as to offer Damask a warm smile. "I trust you are well?"

"As well as I have been ever since the incident that left me with this." Damask gestured to the mask that obscured most of his face. "What a beautiful day we have for the inauguration of our new Chancellor."

Palpatine nodded his agreement. "I was just saying as much to Senator Mothma," he said, as though Damask had not already known that. "Weather Control surely deserve a pay rise for the excellent job they have done today."

Antilles said, "If you will excuse us, gentlemen, there are many other people with whom I must exchange greetings before the Senate meets."

They moved away, leaving Damask and Palpatine standing together amid the crowd.

"How many of them will cause problems for us?" Palpatine said in a tone that Damask could almost have mistaken for mild curiosity.

"Not Antilles," Damask replied. "Today marks the end of his political career, and with it his time of influence in the Senate. I think that it is Garm Bel-Iblis of whom we must be most cautious. Nothing matters to him so much as Corellia, and that breed of affection can make a being dangerous."

"Did you notice," Palpatine remarked in the same tone of one who is remarking on some new piece of trivia, "that not one of them expressed their sympathies for the plight of Naboo or their relief at its ending?"

Damask smiled beneath the mask. "That is because none of them are truly glad of the outcome," he said. "At least not coming when it did. And none of them is a convincing liar. It is a weakness they all share, and they know it."

"Do you think the holocams will have picked up on that?" Palpatine said.

"It is inconsequential," Damask said dismissively, waving his hand. "Today the news will be dominated by one thing and one thing only; the ascension of not one but two Supreme Chancellors of the Galactic Republic."

* * *

The Senate Rotunda was a vast chasm of a room, so enormous that if one was standing on its floor, the uppermost tiers of pods were barely visible, and vice versa. Sounds echoed around endlessly, the room's acoustics designed perfectly so that even in the gargantuan void between Senate pods and the Speaker's Podium, the Senators and Representatives would not need to bellow to ensure that their voices could be heard.

It took perhaps an hour or more for all of the Senators, Representatives, guests and other attendees of the ceremony to make their way into the Rotunda and take their seats, by which time the hour was already closer to noon than to sunrise. Damask was impatient, but kept a calm and composed exterior for the benefit of onlookers and the holocams. None could be allowed to suspect that he had any knowledge that they did not, not until the words themselves were out of Palpatine's mouth and in the ears of the galaxy. Then, and only then, would he allow himself a smile of triumph, and the posture of one destined to rule.

His own office not in contest, the blue-skinned Chagrian Vice-Chair Mas Amedda stood up to the Speaker's Podium and, clad in the traditional red and gold robe worn on Inauguration Day, he addressed the now silent room in his usual, booming voice.

"We are gathered today for a most solemn purpose," he declared, scowling out at the politicians and holocams as was his habit. "The citizens of the Galactic Republic have cast their votes, and we will now look to their representatives in this august chamber to make the voices of their home systems known." He consulted a datapad briefly, then continued. "The candidates standing in this election are; the incumbent Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum of Eriadu."

Valorum, tired-eyed and white-haired, stood to take the meagre applause that sounded out for him from a handful of pods. His was already a doomed cause, and all knew it.

"Senator Bail Antilles of Alderaan."

Much louder cheering for Antilles, Damask noted, mostly from wealthy core worlds such as Corellia, Hosnian Prime, and Kuat. If there was any candidate in this election who could defeat Palpatine, and scupper decades if not centuries of careful planning, then it was Antilles.

"Representative Ainlee Teem of the Gran Protectorate of Malastare."

For Teem, the sounds of approval came mostly from worlds in the Mid and Outer Rims, worlds like Kashyyyk, Bothawui and D'Qar, but they could be discounted, Damask knew. More than half the Senate had yet to voice their approval for any candidate, and there was only one remaining.

"And Senator Sheev Palpatine of Naboo."

A storm of cheers and applause greeted Palpatine's name, and looking to the Podium, Damask could see his former apprentice smiling as humbly as he could, and nodding his gratitude to all sides of the Rotunda. Antilles, beside him, was grinding his teeth in what Damask knew to be a Human method of suppressing rage, while both Teem and Valorum looked as though any fight that might once have been in them had already burned out completely.

"And now, to the vote," Amedda announced. He consulted his datapad once again, and called out the name of the first system to declare its chosen candidate.

* * *

And hour later a conclusion had still not been reached, and Damask was starting to grow concerned. Both Teem and Antilles had performed far better than he had expected, and while the same was also true of Palpatine, and while he had led the race since it had begun, it was now far from certain that he would be the victor by the day's end. Palpatine had remained stoic the entire time, barely changing his expression at all, though Damask could feel faint ripples of anxiety coming from the younger Human through the Force.

 _All will be well_ , he told himself. _It has to be._

"The planet of Lianna," said the Senator for that world, Hycas Santhe, "casts its vote for Senator Antilles."

That was no surprise, reflected Damask. Regardless of how the beings of Lianna had voted, no member of House Santhe would ever voice support for Damask or for any being aligned with him. Theirs had never been a vote that Palpatine had bothered to court.

There had been some surprises, however, both welcome and unpleasant. Chalcedon had thrown its lot in with Palpatine, as had Sullust, Mon Calamari and Corulag. But worlds which Damask had thought secure, such as Dantooine and Eadu, had voted against Palpatine. If there had been a moment of unalloyed pleasure, then it had been the moment that Eriadu's new Senator Shayla Paige-Tarkin had addressed the Senate from her pod to say that her homeworld had cast its vote, "For a being who has shown unrivalled strength, courage and resilience in times most troubling for his homeworld, Senator Sheev Palpatine." Valorum's face had been a picture of dismay, and Damask had wondered why the man did not simply concede.

Damask glanced up at the enormous, real-time counter that was being projected high in the void above the candidates' heads. It read; "Palpatine - 134; Antilles - 98; Teem - 55; Valorum - 9". Above them all, displayed largest of all, was the number that would indicate an unassailable majority, and the end of the contest; 206, precisely half the number of worlds and systems who had a vote in the Senate Rotunda, plus one additional vote to make a majority. Damask forced himself to sit back and let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding.

 _All will be well_ , he said to himself again.

Just then, a sudden hush fell on the chamber as the Gran Ainlee Teem rose to his hooved feet, holding up his hands for silence and attention.

"Honoured Senators," he began. "Representatives, guests to our hallowed chamber, I hereby concede defeat and withdraw from the Chancery contest."

Chattering and shouting began immediately. Damask heard a few shouts of derision at the Malastare Representative, who even now was dismounting from the Podium into the pod of his colleagues, which retreated back into the mass of others. But the majority of the voices seemed to be excited. Teem's withdrawal would trigger a re-count of votes from those planets and systems who had thrown their lot in with him to determine whom their support would now transfer to. Damask sensed new hope, and sat up excitedly.

"This will serve Palpatine well," remarked San Hill across from him in the pod. "Teem's supporters have far more in common with your young friend from Naboo than with the Core-dwelling Antilles."

Damask nodded, acknowledging the accuracy of Hill's words. "The election is truly assured now," he said.

And so it proved, and within the hour, Amedda was declaring to the Senate that the contest was over. "Senator Sheev Palpatine is hereby elected by due process to serve as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic!"

The Chagrian was forced to shout to make himself heard over the cheering and wild applause of Palpatine's supporters, and the disgruntled muttering of his opponents. For his part, Palpatine sat, wide-eyed and seemingly stunned, before he got to his feet, the picture of dignified triumph, and shook the hands of Antilles and Valorum. Damask saw Palpatine's lips move but could not hear what was being said. Empty commiserations, no doubt.

As Amedda, Antilles and Valorum sat, Palpatine stood at the Podium. He was silent for almost five minutes, waiting for the Rotunda to follow his example, even as the cheering and applause continued on and on. Eventually he was given the quiet he wanted, and began to speak in a tone of clear confidence.

"Friends, colleagues, fellow beings," he began, looking to all sides as he spoke. "I thank you for the support shown to me today by the beings of the galaxy, and I promise each and every one of you, whether you cast your vote for me or not, that I will be a Chancellor for all sectors, for all worlds, and for all beings."

Fresh applause greeted these words, though was quieted much more quickly as Palpatine held up a hand for silence and made a show of looking through pre-prepared notes.

"The task of governing the Republic is one that demands much of any being, and I would like to take this opportunity to thank my predecessor Finis Valorum for all that he has done in service to us all."

More applause, but this time polite rather than riotous. Valorum was perhaps the least popular being in the room, and from the expression on his haggard face, Damask had a feeling that the ageing Human knew it too.

"I will be unable to govern," said Palpatine as the applause died down, "without the support of my staff, of the Senate, of the Courts, and of the Jedi Order, and I hope that I will be able to count upon each of you to do your duty for the Republic as we enter this latest chapter in our federation's history." He paused, and Damask knew that his moment was at last approaching. "But while we in the Senate," said Palpatine, "have managed to keep the Republic intact for a thousand years, we would never have been able to do so without the assistance of a few beings, largely invisible to the public eye, whose accomplishments now need to be brought into the light of day."

And now, Palpatine looked straight at the pod occupied by the Observers from the InterGalactic Banking Clan.

No, Damask realised, not at the pod. Palpatine was looking straight into his eyes, meeting his gaze, and Damask smiled as he readied himself.

"Hego Damask is one of those beings. It was Hego Damask who was responsible for overseeing development of the Republic Reserve Administration and for providing financial support for the Resettlement Acts that enabled beings to blaze new hyperspace routes to the outlying systems and colonise distant worlds. It was Hego Damask who brokered deals between the Republic and organisations such as the Techno Union and the Corporate Alliance which have benefitted the Republic in more ways than can be properly described."

And as Palpatine continued, every eye in the Rotunda fell on Damask. He could feel each and every one of them, some of them astonished, some fascinated, some angered, but all of them fixedly on him. Beneath his transpirator mask, he smiled, and listened to Palpatine's speech as he expounded on the role Damask had played in securing jobs for impoverished beings, in securing the future of the Republic economy, in curtailing the powers of private armies and mercenary groups.

"And as such, Honoured Senators," Palpatine concluded, "I think it only prudent to extend the formal hand of friendship to the being who has done more than any other, I think, to secure the future of our Republic and our democracy. I hereby appoint Hego Damask, here in this room with us today, as the third Co-Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

What had Damask expected in that moment? Cheering? A riot? Babble of conversation? He received none of them, not at first. At first, he was met with a deafening silence.

And then, the cheering began.


	2. To Business

**Chapter Two**

 **To Business  
**

Palpatine's election to the chancellorship, and the astonishing appointment of Hego Damask as Co-Chancellor, the first in four-hundred years, dominated the HoloNet. Pundits were quick to weigh in on what the election, and the sudden political dominance of the Muun financier, might mean for the immediate future. The fact that Naboo had managed to defeat the Trade Federation without the aid of mercenaries or Republic intervention had many beings wondering whether planets might follow Naboo in establishing their own militaries and challenging the power of the galactic consortiums. How might the events of Naboo shape the new Supreme Chancellors' policies toward the Corporate Alliance and other cartels? Would legislation regarding taxation of the free-trade zones and the legality of droid armies be reexamined? Would harsher enforcement lead eventually to the cartels' secession from the Republic? And might entire systems end up joining the exodus? Or would the historic ties between these groups and one half of the new ruling duumvirate ensure that there could still be reconcilation, and a chance to move towards galactic unity?

With the Battle of Naboo concluded - lost, in his estimation - Palpatine had no time to bask in adulation or celebrate his win. His first order of business, indeed his first official duty, was to travel to his homeworld to congratulate Queen Amidala and her new allies, the Gungans, on their surprise victory.

The Chancellor's private starship, a beautiful Rugess Nome-designed craft named _Star of Coruscant_ , exited from hyperspace above Naboo more smoothly than any other ship Palpatine had ever travelled on. Dressed in an exquisite blue robe made of the finest materials, and accompanied by armed Senate Guards as well as Sate Pestage, Janus Greejatus and Kinman Doriana, Palpatine made his way to one of the ship's private shuttles, a custom-designed _Theta_ -class T-2c that had been made with comfort in mind above all else.

"Set us down in Theed Embassay Plaza, pilot," Palpatine instructed the Human female at the vessel's helm. "A delegation is awaiting us there."

"Yes, Chancellor."

The journey was as fast as it was pleasant, and within mere minutes the shuttle's boarding ramp had been lowered onto the flagstones of Naboo's capital city. The Senate Guards exited first, blasters in hand, and after a few moments deemed it safe enough to usher the Chancellor and his party out of the vessel and ahead of them.

Blinking slightly in the sun of a Naboo summer's day, Palpatine saw that ahead of him was Queen Amidala herself, accompanied by a cadre of orange-garbed handmaidens who all looked as though they could have been related to one another. The Queen herself was dressed, bravely considering the heat of the day, in head-to-toe black, almost as though she was in mourning.

 _Of course_ , Palpatine realised. _Hundreds died during the occupation, and she will be commemorating their loss._

He inwardly reproached himself for having not worn the same colour in a like-minded gesture, but the dark blue that covered him could almost pass for mourning garb, and besides he doubted that very few would be analysing his wardrobe choices.

Also with the Queen were two brown-robed Jedi Knights and a small boy, wearing the simple tunic of a Padawan of the Order. Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the boy Anakin Skywalker, no doubt. Palpatine suppressed a sudden feeling of rage toward the Jedi, and instead arranged his face into as broad a smile as he was capable of while still appearing to be sincere.

He walked with a deliberate spring in his step as he approached the young Queen, who favoured him with a rare smile as the gap between them closed. When he reached her, Palpatine bowed his head as a Naboo was obligated to when before the monarch. She was, of course, no longer his superior in rank - in fact, there were now no beings in the galaxy to whom Palpatine was obligated to show obeisance to. But he thought that the gesture portrayed him well, and would serve to reassure his homeworld and the galaxy that power had not changed the man they had thought they had known.

"Congratulations on your election, Chancellor," said the Queen formally. Palpatine beamed at her, looking to all the galaxy like a kindly uncle regarding a favourite niece.

"Your boldness has saved our people, Your Majesty," he said in a tone of humility and deference. "It is you who should be congratulated. Together, we shall bring peace and prosperity to the Republic."

Palpatine turned his smiling gaze onto the Jedi, and shook the hands of each of them in turn.

"We are indebted to you for your bravery Master Jinn, Master Kenobi," he said to the elder Jedi, who bowed to him wordlessly. Palpatine turned his attention to the boy, Anakin, and at last fell the strength of the Force within him. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, almost as though the boy were the Force incarnate. "And to you, young Skywalker," he said, patting the boy's shoulder. "We shall watch your career with great interest."

* * *

"What is this place?" Dooku asked after Damask had welcomed him into the LiMerge Building.

"And old factory I have owned for some years."

Dooku's brow wrinkled. "For what purpose?"

"I believe I may have some use for it in jump-starting a plan of urban revitilisation."

With Palpatine on Naboo to celebrate the victory of the Royal Security Forces, the Gungans and the Jedi over Maul and the Trade Federation, Damask had arranged to meet Dooku far from prying eyes, in perhaps the last place on Coruscant a being might have expected to find a famous Jedi Master and a new Co-Chancellor of the Republic. Damask was wearing a cowled cloak closed at the neck by a Sith clasp, ostensibly as protection against acid-laden rain that was falling in The Works. Dooku was dressed as a civilian, in tight-fitting trousers and a smart cape.

The former Jedi regarded the factory's enormous main room. "No Senate Guards?"

"They're within comm range should I need them."

"I would have thought you at least wanted me to see your new office," Dooku said, brushing beads of water from his shoulder. "Then I recalled what your erstwhile colleague said the last time I spoke to him, about not being seen in public with either of you."

Damask waved negligently. "The office is temporary. One more suited to the position is already in the planning stages."

Side by side, they began to walk through the room. "So you've hooked them already," Dooku said.

Damask feigned a look of innocence. "Not at all. The Appropriations Committe approached us with the idea of constructing a dome near the Senate Building that will also serve as a docking facility."

"You appear to be very pleased with the idea."

"Most pleased."

Dooku stopped to study him. "Your truer nature begins to reveal itself, I think." When Damask made no response, he added, "Please convey my congratulations to Chancellor Palpatine on Naboo's defeat of the Trade Federation. An odd series of events, wouldn't you agree?"

Damask nodded and resumed a measured pace. "Everyone involved - including myself and Chancellor Palpatine - underestimed the abilities of Queen Amidala. And of the boy, Anakin Skywalker. Quite a feat, to pilot a starfighter so successfully at nine years old. I hear Master Qui-Gon has been given dispensation by the Jedi Council to train him." Damask paused momentarily. "It was that decision that firmed your decision to leave the Order, I believe?"

"To a degree," Dooku said, scowling. "Though as much as I objected to the boy's initiation into the Order, it was only part of the reason. I've learned recently that another of my Padawans - Komari Vosa - is alive."

"I hope that is a relief to you," Damask started to say.

"It isn't, as she is said to be leading the Bando Gora." Dooku looked at him. "She could be a danger to the Republic, Supreme Chancellor."

"Then thank you for the warning. How did the Council react to your departure?"

"Not well. They demanded more explanation than I was willing to provide."

"And Master Sifo-Diyas?"

Dooku frowned. "He knew that my leaving was simply a matter of time. Although he did say something I found to be rather cirious. He said that if I had any designs on instigating dissent, he would be one step ahead of me."

Damask shook his head in confusion. "Are you planning to instigate dissent?"

Dooku smiled faintly. "My first order of business is to reclaim my title."

"Count Dooku," Damask said, assessing the sound of it. "Somehow it suits you better than Master Dooku."

"I'm tempted to adopt a new name altogether."

"A new beginning."

"Perhaps I should do as your colleague has done. Call myself Dooku, as he retitled himself Palpatine."

"I see. Well, what meaning is conveyed by a name, in any case?" Again, he paused for a long moment. "I understand that Qui-Gon killed a lightsaber-user on Naboo."

Dooku's head snapped around. "The same Sith he confronted on Tatooine. The Council is hoping that Gunray can shed some light on the matter once the trial is under way."

"I wouldn't put much faith in that. Does the Council know anything at all?"

"Not even his Sith name," Dooku said. "But they know that there is another."

"How could they?"

"In theory, when the Sith went into hiding one thousand years ago, they vowed that there should be only two of them at any given time - one Master, one apprentice, through the generations."

"Was this one Qui-Gon killed the apprentice or the Master?"

Dooku looked at him as they walked. "My every instinct tells me that he was the apprentice. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan suspect as much, as well, based on the Zabrak's behaviour. The Council is being more circumspect, but naturally they want the other one found." He fell silent, then added, "The Sith deliberately revealed himself on Tatooine and on Naboo. More than disclosing their alliance with the Trade Federation, he did so to send a message to the Jedi. It amounts to a declaration of war."

Damask came to a stop at a broken window that overlooked the rain-drenched Works. "How would one even begin to know where to look for this other Sith?"

"I'm not sure," Dooku said, coming abreast of him. "Several crises of the last decade bear the signature of a more sinister intelligence than those who planned and perpetrated the events. Yinchorr, for example; but especially Eriadu and the assassination of the Trade Federation leadership. Clearly, certain beings have dealt with the Sith - perhaps without realising it - and some may be dealing with the surviving one currently. Now that I'm no longer a Jedi, there may be a way for me to extract information from the crime cartels and other organisations. Eventually I will find him - or her - and with any fortune before the Jedi do."

"To finally destroy them forever," Damask said, nodding and aware that Dooku was staring at him intently.

"The thought preoccupied me for some time, but no longer."

Damask turned his head slightly. "Then why seek this one?"

"Because I suspect that Naboo was only the beginning - a kind of opening salvo. The Sith want to see the Republic brought down. Much as you and I and Palpatine do."

Damask didn't respond for a long moment. "But to ally with a Sith ..."

"For many, they are the embodiment of pure evil, but the Council knows differently. What separates a Sith from a Jedi is the way each approaches the Force. The Jedi Order has placed limits on itself, but the Sith have never shied from incorporating the power of the Dark Side to accomplish their goals."

"You wish to learn the secrets of the Dark Side?"

"I confess that I do."

Damask restrained an impulse to reveal his true identity. Dooku was strong in the Force, and might simply be attempting to draw him out. On the other hand ...

"Something tells me that this hidden Sith may eventually find his way to you," he said at last. "And if and when he or she does, I hope that the alliance you forge will help us restore order to the galaxy."

* * *

Sate Pestage showed Qui-Gon Jinn and his young Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, into Palpatine and Damask's temporary office in the Senate Building. Both Jedi were wearing light-coloured tunics, brown robes, and tall boots. Facsimiles of each other.

"Thank you both for accepting our invitation," Palpatine said, coming out from behind a broad, burnished desk to welcome them. "Sit please, both of you," he added, gesturing to chairs that faced the desk and the large window behind it.

Anakin had nearly seated himself when Qui-Gon chastised him with a shake of his head.

"Thank you, Supreme Chancellor," the bearded Jedi said, "but we'll stand." He folded his hands in front of him and waited for Anakin to join him before saying: "We realise that your time is valuable."

Returned to his armchair, Palpatine smiled receptively. "Not too valuable to spend with two of the people who saved the life of my Queen and rescued my homeworld from the clutches of the Trade Federation." He kept his eyes on Qui-Gon. "Congratulations on defeating the Sith Lord, Master Qui-Gon."

The Jedi nodded in gratitude, then said: "Thank you, Supreme Chancellor. Had I been less vigilant, less aware, he may have been the death of me."

"I see that you have already taken a new learner," Damask said, his voice made metallic by the transpirator mask and cutting into the conversation like a blade. "The Council must have great faith in your abilities, Master Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon bowed his head wordlessly as Palpatine cut his own gaze to Anakin. "I didn't have an opportunity on Naboo to thank you, young Skywalker. Your actions were nothing less than extraordinary. May the Force ever be as strong with you."

"Thank you, sir," Anakin said in a quiet voice.

Damask interlinked the long fingers of his hands. "I am told that you grew up on Tatooine, young Human. I visited there, many years ago."

Anakin's eyes narrowed for the briefest moment. "I did, sir, but I'm not supposed to talk about that."

Damask watched him glance up at Qui-Gon. "And why is that?"

"My mother - "

"Anakin," Qui-Gon snapped in reprimand.

Damask reclined slightly, and both he and Palpatine studied the two Jedi before them. Qui-Gon seemed not to have noticed the fury simmering in the boy, but for an instant Palpatine perceived a touch of his younger self in Skywalker. The need to challenge authority; the gift for masking his emotions. The yet-unrecognised _power_.

"I apologise if we have stirred something between you," Palpatine said after a moment.

"The Jedi are trained to live in the moment, Supreme Chancellor," Qui-Gon said. "Our upbringings have little to do with our lives in the Force."

Palpatine furrowed his brow. "Easy for an infant, I'm certain, but for a young boy ..." He interrupted himself with a negligent gesture. "Well, who am I to pass judgement on the tenets of your Order, when the Jedi have kept peace in the Republic for one thousand years."

Qui-Gon said nothing in a definite way.

"Tell me, Padawan Skywalker," said Damask to break the silence, "how it feels to have become a member of such a revered group."

"It's like a dream come true, sir," Anakin said in genuine sincerity.

"A dream come true ... Then you've long thought about the Jedi Order and about the Force."

Anakin nodded. "I've always wanted to bring justice - "

"It's not for you to decide your destiny, Anakin," Qui-Gon said. "The Force will guide you."

Palpatine smiled inwardly. _Guide you to me, young Skywalker._

Dooku had talent, and could be a powerful placeholder. But this seemingly guiless pleasant-faced boy, this Forceful boy, was the one he would take as his apprentice, and use to execute the final stage of the Grand Plan. Let Qui-Gon instruct him in the ways of the Force, and let Skywalker grow embittered over the next decade as his mother aged in slavery, the galaxy deteriorated around him, and his fellow Jedi fell to inextricable conflicts. He was too young to be trained in the ways of the Sith, in any case, but he was the perfect age to bond with a father figure who would listen to all his troubles and coax him inexorably over to the Dark Side.

"As I told you on Naboo, Anakin," he said finally, "we will continue to follow your career with great interest."

 _And assure that it culminates in the ruination of the Jedi Order and the reascendancy of the Sith._


	3. Changing of the Guard

**Chapter Three**

 **Changing of the Guard**

The new office of the two Supreme Chancellors was a large, open space, carpeted in the most expensive synthetic materials to be found anywhere in the Core. One wall was made up completely of a large, Alderaanian window, out of which the never-ending, never-sleeping cityscape and liveliness of Coruscant was visible. Two large desks, both carved from a rare hardwood found only on the third moon of the planet Kitruan, stood before the window, their backs to it, so that their occupants might work undistracted by the glorious vista behind them. Lining the room were a collection of broznium statues, all purchased by Hego Damask several standard decades earlier, depicting the Four Sages of Dwartii; Yanjon, Sistros, Braata and Faya, without whom the Republic might never have taken on the form that it now bore.

The form which Damask and Palpatine hoped to tear out by the roots.

Allowing himself respite from the mountain of paperwork which he had already spent over an hour attempting to defeat, Palpatine turned to the large window and watched as the Coruscanti sky turned orange, its star rising into the sky and illuminating the planet below.

"Another day dawns," Palpatine said to himself. He turned his gaze to the gargantuan artifical mountain of the Jedi Temple. The enormous ziggurat structure often occupied Palpatine's thoughts, both because of its status as the headquarters of his most despised enemy, and because of the dark secret that lurked deep beneath its foundations.

Palpatine was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of the communications panel on his desk signalling for his attention. He pressed a small button just below its speaker grill and spoke clearly.

"Yes?"

"Supreme Chancellor," came the cool voice of Sei Taria, the Staff Aide whom Palpatine and Damask had inherited from Valorum, "Jedi Knight Ronhar Kim is here to see you. He does have an appointment -"

"Yes, yes," Palpatine said, sounding cheerful. "Please send him in."

The comm clicked off, and moments later the door to the Chancellors' Suite slid open and a brown-robed Human male with his hair arranged into a top-knot walked into the room. Palpatine left his desk and, ignoring Ronhar's attempt to bow, took the Jedi's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Please leave ceremony at the door, Ronhar," Palpatine said. "For the friendship I bore your father, please feel that you may be informal with me."

Ronhar Kim looked uncomfortable but nodded his head. "I will bear that in mind, Supreme Chancellor."

Palpatine gestured for Ronhar to sit, and unlike Qui-Gon Jinn several weeks earlier, Ronhar accepted the offer. He looked about the room as though searching for something and then said, "Chancellor Damask is running late on his morning commute?"

Palpatine could not help but chuckle. "He is usually here at almost all hours of the day and night," he told Ronhar. "Muuns need very little sleep, after all. But this morning he is attending a breakfast meeting with the Joint-Chairs of the Staffing Committee."

Ronhar let out his breath in a theatrical sigh. "Are they every bit as dull as they sound?"

"Duller," Palpatine replied, and the two men laughed. "But being Supreme Chancellor cannot be all fun and games, just as being a Jedi Knight is not all about going on spectacular adventures and saving the galaxy." Ronhar opened his mouth to respond but Palpatine cut him off. "Shall we take a walk?"

"A walk?" Ronhar said, as though he had never heard of such a thing. "Where to?"

"Just to the other end of the Senate Complex and back again. It's not all that far in the grand scheme of things, perhaps a kilometer and a half, but I like to take my daily exercise that way."

The two of them, followed by two blue-cloaked and helmeted Senate Guards armed with with blaster rifles, exited the luxurious office room, passed by Sei Taria at her desk, and walked out into the corridors that made up the network of walkways and paths connecting the offices of the various Senators and government officials. Palpatine made a point of giving every passerby a polite, sometimes even cheerful, greeting, and wore a smile permanently affixed to his features. It was as easy and natural to him now as was the movement of his chest when he inhaled and exhaled.

"Tell me Ronhar," Palpatine said to the taller Jedi, "how are things within the Jedi Order?"

Ronhar considered his answer for a few moments and then said, "Well, Chancellor, all things being considered." Palpatine waited for him to elaborate. "No doubt you have heard," Ronhar said eventually," of Master Dooku's resignation from the Order."

"I did hear about that, yes," Palpatine answered, sounding grave and concerned. "What does this mean for the Order as a whole, if a Master so prominent as Dooku has decided to walk away from it?"

Ronhar shook his head. "Nothing, I should imagine. Master Dooku was always a little outside the mainstream of the Order."

"Not from what I hear," Palpatine said. It was Ronhar's turn to wait in silence for explanation, and eventually Palpatine supplied it to him. "I heard a rumour that what finally persuaded Master Dooku to leave was the decision to train this young prodigy who saved my homeworld."

"Anakin, you mean?" Ronhar said. "Yes, he disagreed with Master Yoda on that score, as did Master Windu, Master Bulq, Master Billaba and quite a few others. But Master Jinn spoke most persuasively in Anakin's favour, and the Council voted - narrowly, I might add - that he should be given a place in the Order."

"And what are your personal feelings on that?" Palpatine asked, giving Ronhar a considered look. When the Jedi did not answer for some time, Palpatine said, "You may speak plainly, Ronhar. Your words are safe with me, I promise you."

Ronhar sagged a little in his shoulders, and Palpatine could tell that a weight had been taken off the Jedi's mind by his words.

"I think that the boy is too old," Ronhar said, quickly, as though he had been wanting to say this for some time. "He has already formed too many attachments to truly understand the Jedi practice of disassociating ourselves from all things in the mundane galaxy."

"Perfectly natural, surely?" Palpatine said, deciding to prod at the issue a little further. "He is nine years old, it is not his fault that the Jedi do not routinely search Tatooine for potential initiates."

Ronhar seemed to consider Palpatine's words. "You speak truthfully, Chancellor," he said. "But that does not change the fact that that boy is unsuited to the life of a Jedi. He should be sent back to his mother on Tatooine, but the decision has been made and we must now simply accept that."

Palpatine nodded, as though accepting information that was beyond his true comprehension. "I heard from Master Windu," he said, changing the subject, "that you are to take a Padawan of your own."

Ronhar nodded. "I am. I thought it was past time, and Tap-Nar-Pal has the potential to be a fine member of our Order."

"I am glad to hear it," Palpatine said, still smiling. "Please give this young Tap-Nar-Pal my personal well wishes."

Ronhar opened his mouth to speak, but was itnerrupted by the sound of quickly-striding footsteps coming towards them. Palpatine looked up, as did the Jedi, and saw, walking in his direction with great purpose, the Senator from Kuat, Iulus Viento. A Human in his middle years with close marital ties to a Kuati family so old that it preceded the Republic itself, Viento was cut from the same cloth as Palpatine himself was, which only made him all the more deserving of being watched closely. He had, at one point, briefly been considered by Hego Damask to be someone whom the Sith would be able to put into a position of power and manipulate from the shadows, but Palpatine's rise to political prominence had killed the need for any such plan.

Palpatine turned his fixed smile on Viento as the Senator approached him and was about to speak when Viento cut him off before he could utter a word.

"Chancellor, I must speak with you."

"And I am always happy to converse with you, Iulus," Palpatine said. "But as you can see I am already in conversation with Master Kim."

Viento's face contorted for a moment in frustration, but he regained control of himself almost at once. "There is something I must discuss with you urgently Chancellor, please."

Palpatine made a show of relenting on the matter. "Speak, then, Iulus," he said. "What is so important that it could not wait until tomorrow?"

To his credit Viento wasted no time. "The Senate Guards are compromised, Chancellor. I have ... certain contacts who have informed me on good authority that the unit has been infiltrated, and that an attempt on your life is planned. You must relieve the Senate Guard of their duty to protect you at once, and create a new body loyal to yourself and to Chancellor Damask personally."

Palpatine was about to speak in gentle derision of Viento's words, when the Dark Side whispered to him. Viento was right.

From behind him, Palpatine heard the Senate Guards prime their blaster rifles to fire, and at the same instant Ronhar Kim summoned his lightsaber to his hand with the Force, and ignited its blue shimmering blade. Shots were fired, and Palpatine ducked out of their path. But they never reached him, nor flew over his head; Ronhar had caught both blasts on the blue fire of his lightsaber, sending them back at the assassins who had fired them. Palpatine could sense the life leaving one of them already, and the other was injured.

Turning with a look of abject shock and terror on his face, Palpatine saw that Ronhar was bent over the prone form of the assassin who had lived, and was asking him questions in a firm tone.

"Who sent you? Where are they?"

But it was no use. Palpatine, Ronhar and Viento all watched as the assassin merely smiled at them wickedly, and then slumped onto the floor, as dead as his fellow.

"A suicide capsule," Ronhar said. "He must have bitten on it as he fell. Very potent to kill him so quickly. It is almost like ..."

Ronhar trailed off, but Palpatine knew what was on the Jedi's mind.

"Just like the woman who murdered your father," Palpatine said in sympathy. "Perhaps they are from the same organisation?"

Ronhar waved his hand in dismissal of Palpatine's words. "It is a common tactic of assassins who know they cannot escape. It is probably inconsequential."

 _But the Force will tell you otherwise_ , Palpatine thought.

The Maladians were behind this. But they never acted without a contract, so who had sent them? And had they targeted Damask as well?

"I think you are right, Iulus," Palpatine said after a long moment of silence. "The Chancellors should be protected from now on by a personal guard."

* * *

"Are you sure that they were Maladians?" Plagueis asked him.

"No," Sidious admitted, standing with Plagueis in the main room of the LiMerge Building. "But their method of operation was incredibly similar, and Ronhar Kim certainly seemed to suspect a connection despite what he said to Senator Viento and myself."

Plagueis curled the long fingers of his right hand beneath his masked chin. "Who could have sent them?" he pondered. "It is a surprise that they would seek to kill one Supreme Chancellor and not the other." Sidious tried not to show his true suspicions, but Plagueis guessed anyway. "You think that I sent Maladian assassins after you?" he asked, a note of threat in his voice now that had not been there for some years.

"Only fleetingly," Sidious answered. "And only because I make it a habit to consider every possibility."

Plagueis seeemed more amused at the idea than offended. "If I ever wanted to kill you, Darth Sidious," he said in a tone that Sidious knew to be completely sincere. "I would not need Maladian assassins to do my work for me. Besides," he added, gesturing to the transpirator mask that covered his scarred face, "I have little love for that cult of common murderers."

Sidious said nothing, instead looking out over The Works, drenched in acidic rain and as destitue as any place in the galaxy. The night was ageing rapidly, and he reached out with the Force, trying to sense the being that he and Plagueis were waiting for.

"He is here," Sidious said as a speeder made its solitary way through the night and came to a stop several floors above them. "Shall we make our presence known?"

"We shall."

In unison, the two Sith allowed a tiny measure of their true, dark nature to ripple outward in the Force, and within moments, Dooku stood before them. He was wearing a brown cape, black tunic and trousers, high leather boots, and a lightsaber clipped to his belt. The look of mild surprise that he wore for a split-second on his face indicated that he had not expected to meet with two beings tonight.

"So the animal that Qui-Gon killed was not a Sith?" he said, as though he were merely asking about the weather.

"Not a true Sith, no," Sidious answered. Both he and Plagueis were wearing cowls, and he did not think that Dooku had seen either of their faces yet. "A tool, only."

"Am I now speaking," Dooku continued, "to the two _true_ Lords of the Sith, then?"

"You are," Plagueis replied. "And you ought to consider yourself most fortunate. Many beings have come into our presence and lived far shorter lives."

Dooku bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "I do not doubt it," he answered. "May I ask, then, why I was invited here?"

"You were summoned," Sidious said, placing emphasis on the third word in order to correct the former Jedi Master, "because we wish to take your measure."

He brought his electrum-handled lightsaber to his hand, and ignited its crimson blade. Plagueis did likewise, and Dooku, almost reflexively, ignited his own curved-handled weapon, still bearing the green blade of a Jedi.

"Your reputation precedes you, Count," Plagueis said as he and Sidious each flanked Dooku like hunting Nexu. "Let us see how you fare."

Lightsabers clashed. Plagueis attacked first, and then Sidious, both Sith keeping calm expressions on their face and making no noise save the hum and crash of their weapons. Dooku, likewise, fought as if bored, and his mastery of the lightsaber was plain within just moments of their combat.

"We are all highly skilled," Dooku acknowledged. "The Sith have not allowed their swordplay to atrophy, then, even in a thousand years of hiding."

"It is a redundancy," Plagueis admitted. "But we cannot afford any knowledge to be lost."

They clashed again, and this time Dooku was forced to spin his heel as Plagueis and Sidious attacked him from two sides simultaneously. He caught both crimson lightsaber blades on his own, and spun them away from him, causing both Sith Lords to take steps back from him. Sidious summoned lightning from his fingertips, but Dooku was almost casual in his movements as he absorbed the bolts into his green blade.

"I wish to learn all that you have to teach me," Dooku said, even as he positioned himself for another clash of lightsabers. "I have learned all I can of the Light. Now, I wish to know the Dark."

"What we wish and what we receive are often very different," Plagueis said. "But in truth, Count, we have been observing you for some time."

He charged one more time, faster than Sidious had ever seen the old Muun move, and he and Dooku moved almost like a whirlwind, their blades moving and clashing together and breaking apart again that it seemed that they melded into one. Calling on the Force, Sidious took hold of Dooku in a Force Choke that lifted the former Jedi off his feet and caused him to drop his lightsaber to the floor with a clatter.

"Do not forget the opponent not in front of you," Sidious said in faint mockery. "A Master of your reputation should surely know that simple rule of combat."

He released Dooku, who gasped for air and reached for his lightsaber once again. Moving fast, Sidious instead called the lightsaber to his own grip, and examined it.

"A fine make," he said. "The curved handle lends itself well to the practice of Makashi."

"As you have evidenced here tonight," Plagueis said in something like praise. "And, unlike the Jedi, you do not cower from your passions, but allow them to guide your fighting style and direct your actions. There is more than a hint of the Dark Side about you already." Plagueis held his lightsaber to Dooku's throat. "Kneel," he commanded.

Dooku lifted himself from the ground and took a knee before the Sith Master.

"Repeat these words," Sidious said, coming to stand beside Plagueis, his own lightsaber red and shining in his hand. "It is my will to join my destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords."

"It is my will," Dooku said without rancour or resentment, "to jon my destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords."

Beneath his hood, Sidious smiled. "Then it is done," he said. "Stand. The truth of you, now and forever more, will be Darth Tyranus."

 _There. It is done._

It seemed such a simple thing, now that it was completed. But Dooku's descent into darkness had been long in the coming. Galidraan had been the first blow, followed by Yinchorr, Vosa's fall, and the Council's opposition to his views on the boy Anakin. Dooku - Tyranus, Sidious reminded himself - would be a powerful acolyte indeed.

"Where there were two Sith," Plagueis said, "now we are three. But this is not a partnership of equals, Lord Tyranus."

Tyranus bowed his head in acceptance of Plagueis's words. "I had not expected such, master," he replied.

"You will be the apprentice to both of us," Sidious said. "Both Darth Plagueis and Darth Sidious will be your masters in all things, even unto death."

"Might I ask, masters," said Dooku, still managing to sound haughty even as he spoke words of obeisance, "which of you is Lord Plagueis and which Lord Sidious?"

"You may discover more than that," replied Plagueis.

And he lowered his hood.

"I am Darth Plagueis."

Sidious did likewise, showing Tyranus his face.

"And I am Darth Sidious."

"There," said Plagueis, smiling slightly at the look of surprise on Tyranus's features. "Now you know the whole truth of it."


	4. Darker Nature

**Chapter Four**

 **Darker Nature**

The Inner Rim world of Bogden was routinely shaken by terrible seismic tremors that rocked the planet literally to its core, as the world was slowly but inexorably torn apart by the battling gravitational pulls of its twenty-three moons. On any other world, that fact alone would have triggered a planet-wide exodus, a huge refugee funding project initiated by the Senate, and the location as quickly as possible of an alternative, uninhabited world that the beings of Bogden could relocate to and begin their lives anew.

But Bogden had always been different.

"The surface of Bogden," it was often remarked by those who hailed from the unstable planet, "may be unsettling. But Kohlma chills the spirit."

The Graveyard Moon, as it was also called, had earned its epithet during a millennium-long series of conflicts which had devastated Bogden's ever-shifting landscape in a time long before its admission into the Republic. The dead from those endless wars, which numbered well into the billions, had at first been buried in the soil of the planet itself. But as the wars had dragged on without end, and as the numbers of the dead had risen, the sheer volume of the cadavers produced by the wars began to choke the planet. Turning their eyes skyward, the Bogdenites had found a solution to their problem in Kohlma.

The dead of Bogden, even now when the wars were a centuries-distant memory, were shuttled up to Kohlma, thousands in each massive funerary vessel. And over the decades and centuries, the moon had become a place of terror and dark superstition to those who dwelt within its terrible shadow.

Or, as Tyranus considered it, the planet and its nightmarish moon had been drowned in the Dark Side.

It had been a simple matter to track Vosa to this place. The Bando Gora were skilled at hiding their tracks, but it was not impossible to follow them back to their lair, and Tyranus had been on their trail even before he had submitted himself to the teachings of the Sith, and to the overlordship of Darth Plagueis and Darth Sidious. It had been a little over a standard week since that pivotal event in his life, and now he had at last cornered his prey.

Approaching the Graveyard Moon in a heavily-modified variant of the Geonosian-built _Punworcca 116_ -class solar sail sloop, Tyranus considered what to do with Vosa when he had her in his clutches. True she had once been his student, and now that they had both given themselves over to the Dark Side she might even be amenable to the idea of resuming her tutelage under him. But she had become a violent beast in the years since her capture by the Bando Gora on Baltizaar, with no master besides base desires and instinct. She might simply need to be put down, and the threat she posed to the Sith and to the Grand Plan be removed forever.

Tyranus performed an orbital scan of Kohlma's surface and noticed a large mausoleum dominating one of the smaller islands set apart from the moon's largest continental land mass. He reached out with the Force, across the kilometres that separated him from the structure, and felt within a presence that he knew well, even if it was changed slightly and corrupted.

Vosa was there, inside the mausoleum. No doubt she had considered it fitting for the High Priestess, as she now styled herself, of a death-worshipping cult like the Bando Gora to seclude herself away in a place filled with death and the Dark Side.

 _Pointless self-indulgence_ , Tyranus thought. _She disappoints me._

Speeding toward the fortress-like tomb, Tyranus landed the sloop some kilometres from the huge structure, hoping that he might be able to take Vosa by surprise if he did so. He crossed paths with Nexu as he trudged through Kohlma's dark, unforgiving forests, but the beasts cowered from him and left him untroubled. Even so, Tyranus kept his lightsaber in ready reach.

He called on the Force to assist his muscles and blood cells as he ran through the underbrush, barely noticing as he crashed through foliage and broke low-hanging branches with his momentum. Birds took panicked flight above him as he made his way beneath their nests, but he paid them no heed. He thought, once or twice, that members of Vosa's cult might have seen him, but he was moving so fast as to be a blur to the senses of almost every being, and they had likely thought him an animal of the forest, or else an apparition that their own minds had tricked them into seeing for an instant.

Tyranus knew that he could wipe out the entire cult if he had to. None of them was a match for a Lord of the Sith. Not even all of them together were a match for a Lord of the Sith.

After several minutes of running, Tyranus saw Vosa's hideaway loom before him out of the darkness. He brought himself to a halt, and was pleased to see that the cleared area of land immediately before the mausoleum was not empty.

"Kill!" came a guttural cry from somewhere to his left. "Intruder! Kill!"

He watched as, almost as though in slow motion to his heightened senses, a dozen or more skull-masked, glowing-eyed footsoldiers of the Bando Gora approached him from all sides. Members of this cult had killed, captured and even warped the minds of Jedi, and Tyranus was mindful of that. He lifted three of the cultists up into the air, high enough that they would have been able to look down on the highest trees of the forest, and then let them plummet back down to the ground. They landed with horrible _crack_ sounds, and their bodies seemed to almost separate at the seams when they impacted the hard earth.

Tyranus, however, had already shifted his focus to the two cultists nearest to him, wickedly sharp vibroblades in their hands which would be able to render his lightsaber, if not useless, then at least less formidable. The two cultists were circling him, just as Plagueis and Sidious had in the LiMerge Building, and Tyranus allowed himself a self-congratulatory smile.

"Come then," he said, his voice as steady and confident as he felt. "Test yourselves against a Sith Lord."

They accepted his challenge, all nine of the remaining Bando Gora warriors throwing themselves at him simultaneously. The first fell easily to the shimmering green blade of his lightsaber, but the second took advantage of Tyranus's half-second of preoccupation to attempt to drive the phrik alloy blade in his fist at Tyranus's throat. The Sith Lord dodged the lunge, however, throwing his head back, and as he brought his lightsaber back around he swung it in a wide arc and caught the cultist in a slash across his chest which made him crumple at once.

But the Bando Gora were not simple street thugs. They had encountered lightsabers and Force powers before, on Baltizaar, and on that occasion they had been victorious. They came against him once more, and this time one of them succeeded in opening a small gash on Tyranus's arm and drawing blood. It was nothing, a mere scratch, but Tyranus drew on the pain he felt in his limb and channelled it into his strikes and swings. The Dark Side lent him its assistance, and he struck down another cultist and another. He choked the life from one of them without touching him, and brought swift death to the rest with nothing but fist and foot, snapping necks and kicking through bare torsos.

The cultists lay dead before him in a mangled heap when Tyranus felt a familiar presence for the first time in years.

She was thinner than he remembered, and her hair had turned white during her torture at the hands of the cultists whom she now led. But it was Vosa's eyes that had changed the most since Tyranus had last seen her. Where before they had been an unremarkable shade of blue, now they were the livid yellow of one steeped in the Dark Side.

 _She might have even been a Sith,_ Tyranus thought to himself with a strange mixture of sadness, pity and contempt. _But instead she chose this._

"Vosa."

"Master Dooku," came an acidly silken female voice from somewhere to his right.

Tyranus turned to face her, and smiled malevolently. "How far you have fallen, Vosa. From the lofty heights of a Jedi Knight to the dregs of the galaxy. What do you imagine your cult will achieve? You peddle in death sticks and murder, but you are but a fraction of a blink in the eye of the Force."

Vosa bared her teeth at him. "I peddle in more than death sticks and murder, Dooku," she shot back at him. "My cult has been instrumental in the plans of the Sith before, and we will be so again."

Tyranus was momentarily surprised by her words. When had the Bando Gora been used by the Sith before? This was something that he would need to try to look into, though he doubted that either Plagueis or Sidious would simply tell him the information. No, this was something that he would need to discover on his own. But he set such thoughts aside for the moment, as he appraised Vosa.

"Whatever use you may have been to the Sith before," he said, igniting his lightsaber once more, sending a shimmering green light through the forest behind him, "it is at its end."

Vosa drew from a belt on her waist two curved-handled lightsabers of her own, and with a snarl activated both simultaneously. The blades were the red of the Sith, and Tyranus laughed mirthlessly.

"Are you a Sith yourself now Vosa?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Are you a new Darth Malak who will bring terror untold to the galaxy? A new Darth Traya to annihilate the Jedi?" He scowled, all trace of even the semblance of humour vanishing from his voice as he said, "You are not Sith, young one. Nor can you even comprehend the Sith."

"And what would you know of it?" Vosa asked him, beginning to advance on him, their lightsabers humming slightly as a reminder of the battle that would come once the time for words was finished. "The Jedi know nothing of the Sith, Dooku, nothing. I have fought the Sith, on Cog Hive Seven, and fought alongside them. Darth Maul is –"

"Darth Maul is dead," Tyranus interrupted, leaping on Vosa's words. "He was slain by Master Qui-Gon Jinn on Naboo three standard months ago."

Tyrannus could see from the look on Vosa's face that this was new information to her. And in her split-second of disorientation, he made his move, closing the distance between them in a single leap and driving her to the ground with a Force Push. He followed through with a downward swing of his lightsaber, but Vosa crossed her twin blades in front of her chest and caught the strike in a crash of sparks.

Vosa snarled with effort as she tried and failed to push Tyranus back from her.

"Have you realised it yet, Vosa?" he asked her, once more smiling. "Have you sensed the transformation within me?"

She said nothing, only redoubled her efforts against him, and this time she succeeded in throwing his lightsaber back from herself and leaping backward out of his reach.

"The Dark Side is strong within you," she said after a moment of hesitation. "Stronger than I have ever felt in anyone before."

 _Finally, it has come to her._

"You are Sith." Vosa said the words in abject shock and surprise, then dropped to one knee before him. "My lord, please allow me to serve you in whatever capacity I may. Darth Sidious has already placed his faith in me once. I can be useful again."

That was interesting information. Tyranus would be sure to remember it.

He was about to dismiss Vosa out of hand and kill her then and there, when the Dark Side whispered deep inside his mind.

 _Leave her. She has a part to play yet._

Deactivating his lightsaber, Tyranus took a small step back from where he had been standing and said, "I may contact you again, Vosa. Be ready to take my instructions and follow them to the letter. They will have come from my masters."

Vosa bowed deeply.

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

After subduing Komari Vosa and the Bando Gora on Kohlma, Tyranus had expected to be able to return to Coruscant to report his success to Darth Plagueis and Darth Sidious. En route, however, he had been contacted pre-emptively by Plagueis, speaking via a life-sized holo-communication that Tyranus had genuflected to, in an obeisance to which he was still becoming accustomed.

"Master," Tyranus had said, bowing his head low.

"Darth Tyranus," Plagueis had greeted him. "Information has come to light that requires your immediate attention."

"How may I serve, master?"

Plagueis had appeared to consider him for a moment before saying, "Jedi Master Sifo-Diyas has been missing now for some time. The Jedi are beginning to ask questions, and to investigate. Fortunately for us, we have learned where he is, and before the Order has."

Tyranus lifted his head to look Plagueis in the eyes. "Where?"

"On the Outer Rim world of Oba Diah," Plagueis answered. "He is being kept a prisoner of the Pyke Syndicate." Plagueis let out a small, mirthless laugh. "How low the Jedi Order has fallen indeed, if one of its premier masters can be incapacitated and imprisoned by a gang of Pyke spice dealers." He paused for a moment or two, during which Tyranus waited in patient silence for further instructions from his master. "Go to Oba Diah," Plagueis said in a well-practiced tone of command and authority. "Kill Sifo-Diyas. He is a loose end in our Grand Plan, and the Pykes have made it all the easier for us to silence him. After you have dealt with Master Sifo-Diyas, eliminate all of the Pykes present at the facility where he is being kept. Leave no trace that the killings were performed with a lightsaber."

"As you wish it, my master," Tyranus answered, and the image of Plagueis had faded away.

Now on the grey, unforgiving world of the Pykes, Tyranus had left his lightsaber aboard his sloop, and had disembarked to find a welcoming party of grey-skinned natives waiting for him on the prison facility's landing pad.

"Greetings, Lord Tyranus," the lead Pyke had said, bowing. "Magister Damask told us to expect a visit from you. You do us honour, sir."

Tyranus had said nothing as the Pyke had led him inside.

"You are here to speak with our high priority inmate?" the Pyke said, in a tone of one wishing to have confirmed something which he had been informed of by another. "Those were Magister Damas's isntructions."

"They are correct," Tyranus answered. "But first I have one or two preliminary questions for you."

"Very well," the Pyke said, somewhat nervously. "I am happy to help in any way I can."

"How long have you held the Jedi?" Tyranus asked without preamble.

"The Jedi? I don't quite –"

"Do not play the fool with me," Tyranus said haughtily. "I do not take kindly to it. Again; how long have you held him?"

"Almost three standard months, my lord."

"And in that time, has he mentioned anything about a world on the outer reaches of the galaxy, in close proximity to the Rishi Maze?"

The Pyke shook his head. "He has not said a word during the entirety of his stay with us."

Tyranus frowned at the use of euphemism, but decided not to intimidate the Pyke any further. "Show me to him."

He was led down a series of long corridors, until eventually they reached a door with the words "CAUTION: HIGH PRIORITY INMATE" above it.

"This is the place," his Pyke guide said to him, and Tyranus noticed that he drew back several paces as the door slid open at the press of a button.

"Leave me," Tyranus said, and the Pyke did not need instruction twice. He all but ran back up the corridor, leaving Tyranus to walk into Sifo-Diyas's cell alone.

He shut the door behind him with the Force and spoke into the complete darkness.

"Sifo-Diyas?"

Silence.

And then.

"Dooku?"

The voice had come from much closer than Tyranus had thought it would, and he took an involuntary step backwards.

"Dooku?" the voice said again. "Or am I finally going mad in this place?"

"No madness has gripped you yet, my friend," Tyranus said. "I am here, in the flesh."

"How long have I been here?" Sifo-Diyas asked. "They do not tell me what day it is."

"It has been nearly three standard months, old friend," Tyranus said. "I am sorry."

And has he said those final words, he reached out through the Force to sense where Sifo-Diyas was. It was no great task; Sifo-Diyas was strong in the Force, even for a Jedi, and he was as a flare in the darkness. Tyranus acted before Sifo-Diyas could react to stop him, and snapped the Jedi's neck with a single, merciless thought.

Exiting the cell, leaving the corpse of Sifo-Diyas behind him and the door wide open, light streaming in for the first time in months, Tyranus called on the Force to propel him back along the corridor until he came to a halt that defied momentum in a room filled with Pykes. He watched as they turned to him with shock and curiosity, wondering at how soon he had returned and the sorcery he must have employed to make his body move so fast as to be a blur to their eyes.

"Are you finished already, Lord Tyranus?" the lead Pyke asked.

"Not quite," Tyranus answered, and with a single gesture of his right hand he snapped the Pyke's neck as he had Sifo-Diyas's.

The Pykes responded instantaneously, reaching for blasters, stun sticks and electrostaffs. Tyranus watched them, and then as the first blaster bolts flew toward him he evaded them with agility and speed that would have been utterly beyond any being not attuned to the Force. The Pykes attempted to surround him, to trap him in a crossfire, but Tyranus answered their tactic by leaping into the air and crashing down on top of one of his assailants, destroying its fragile body beneath his weight and the force of his landing. By now a hail of blaster bolts came at him from all sides, but Tyranus simply threw up a shield of Force energy and absorbed each one of them. When his strength for that waned, he dissipated the barrier and started to catch the bolts with his naked hands, absorbing their energy into himself, and after several moments unleashed it as a crackle of blue electricity that took six or seven of the Pykes off their feet and left their corpses charred and smoking. Not stopping to savour that small victory, Tyranus turned his attention to the remaining Pykes, who still came at him with everything they had.

Three of them charged at him with electrostaffs, but Tyranus simple pulled the weapons from each of their hands as though with an invisible rope, and pounced on the now-defenceless Pykes with nothing more than his hands and feet. He punched and kicked so hard as to shatter bones, and the three Pykes fell before him in a heartbeat. Those that were left in the small room, which Tyranus now realised must be some sort of recreational area for the Pyke gangsters, tried to flee, but Tyranus sealed every door with the Force, and reveled in the Dark Side as he felt his victims' fear wash over him.

"Why?" one of the Pykes said plaintively.

Tyranus said nothing, only killed.

When he was the last living thing in the room he went over to a computer terminal and used a thumb of one of the dead Pykes to access a readout of the facility. Five floors tall, over two-hundred different rooms, currently occupied by seventy Pykes. Tyranus inhaled deeply, preparing himself for what looked to be a full evening's work.


	5. Hunter and Hunted

**Chapter Five**

 **Hunter and Hunted**

In the two standard months since Darth Tyranus had been initiated into the Order of the Sith Lords, Darth Plagueis had come to regard the Bando Gora as a thorn in his side. The cult's activities, ranging from drug smuggling to murder-for-hire to outright terrorism, had increased in scale significantly, and although they currently represented nothing more than a nuisance, Plagueis was possessed of enough foresight, both through the Force and natural intelligence, to foresee the day that they became not only a liability to the Sith but an all-out threat.

The fact that Darth Tyranus had had the opportunity to stamp out the cult once and for all but had chosen not to take it made matters all the worse. It had crossed Plagueis's mind in the weeks that had elapsed since their duel in the LiMerge Building that perhaps Tyranus was unsuitable for membership of the Sith after all, and if so that would create further problems. Tyranus could easily be disposed of, that was no great task. But the next phase of the Grand Plan called for precisely someone of his public reputation and influence, and Plagueis was hard-pressed to think of any alternatives should Tyranus need to be killed.

"This might all still be salvaged," Sidious said when Plagueis told him, confidentially, of his concerns regarding their new apprentice. "I will task Lord Tyranus with the undoing of his mistake."

So it was that Plagueis now found himself stood beside Sidious in the LiMerge Building, both of them positioned on a holopad and addressing a kneeling blue likeness of Tyranus which was being beamed across the stars from his _Punworcca_ solar sloop.

"Masters," Tyranus said, bowing his head.

"Lord Tyranus," Plagueis said, looking down on his new apprentice from beneath the hood that he knew would cover his face when viewed from Tyranus's vantage point. "An urgent matter has arisen which must interrupt your training."

"The Bando Gora," Sidious put in when Tyranus showed blank non-comprehension at Plagueis's words. "It has become a dangerous parasite that needs to be purged from the galaxy. I believe," he added dangerously. "That you recently had the opportunity to eliminate the cult's leader." There was a deadly silence, and then Sidious spat in anger, "Why did you not take it?"

If Tyranus was afraid, he did not show it on his face, but instead kept his features utterly unmoving, unperturbed.

"As an experiment," he supplied.

"Your experiment," Plaguies responded with just as much venomous anger as Sidious, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, "has failed. This deranged former Jedi has no place in the vision that the Sith have for the future. You will correct this error at once."

Tyranus bowed his head once more, the only outward sign that he gave in acknowledgement of the fact that he was being chastened.

"As you wish, my masters." There was a pause of a moment or two, and then Tyranus added, "If I might ask, masters, what of our plans for the Republic's clone army? With Sifo-Diyas dead –"

"You did well on Oba Diah, Lord Tyranus," Sidious interrupted, seeing where Tyranus was heading with this line of thought. "But that does not wash away your failure with regards to Komari Vosa. As to the clone army, the Kaminoans have prepared the facilities and personnel necessary to begin the operation. But they lack a suitable host."

Plagueis was struck by inspiration, and spoke before Sidious could continue. "You, Lord Tyranus, will find the being to fulfil this role. You might look among the galaxy's most dangerous mercenaries, they are likely to be the most ideal for our purposes."

"The army is not to be Force-sensitive?"

"I have been assured that such a thing is impossible. Force-sensitive clones are often aberrations, shadows of the being upon whom they are molded. Besides, a more conventional army is far better suited to what we have planned for them and for the Jedi."

Tyranus seemed as though he was about to speak, but opted instead to bow his head again.

"I shall accomplish both of these tasks with a single stroke, masters."

Sidious nodded, while Plagueis remained stoically still.

* * *

"Count Dooku has contacted just two candidates, Chancellor Damask," 11-4D intoned as it and Plagueis observed a datapad inside Plagueis's apartment in 500 Republica. "They are both former members of the True Mandalorians; Jango Fett and Montross."

Plagueis's interest piqued at the first name. "Fett?"

"That is correct, sir."

Plagueis found himself impressed with Tyranus, even against his better judgement. The Fett Clan had been one of the leading Mandalorian bloodlines for millennia, dating back as far as the time of the ancient Sith Empire. Its progenitor, Cassus Fett, was still a legendary figure among the Mandalorians, and Plagueis had heard of the battle prowess of this Jango Fett as well.

"He would be well-suited indeed to serve as the Grand Army's template."

"Indeed, Chancellor," the droid agreed.

"What did Tyranus say to these two Mandalorians in his message to them?"

For answer, 11-4D projected a life-sized shimmering hologram of Tyranus, looking off somewhere in the middle distance as he spoke.

"Greetings, Jango Fett. I am Tyranus. I have a proposition for you. You are one of a select few chosen to participate in a special hunt … for a special prey."

 _Were the theatrics truly necessary, Lord Tyranus?_

"If you succeed," the recording of Tyranus continued, "the reward will be in the amount of five million Republic credits." The image of Dooku vanished, to be replaced by a stationary likeness of Komari Vosa. Tyranus identified her. "Dead or alive," his voice added. "The deranged leader of the Bando Gora."

The recording ended, and Plagueis sat back in his seat with a finger hooked beneath the ruin of his chin.

"Much of the five million will undoubtedly come from his own coffers," Plagueis said, thinking aloud. "As Count of Serenno, he is now among the wealthiest beings in the galaxy."

"By the estimations of the Bank of Aargau," the droid put in, "his wealth is ranked seventeenth inside Republic space. You might be interested to know, Chancellor, that you yourself are sixth."

Plagueis waved a dismissive hand. "Credits can do much, FourDee, but they must not be mistaken for true power. Nonetheless," he added in consideration, "if that is all that these mercenaries and bounty hunters crave, perhaps credits are all that is necessary for our purposes at this juncture." He said nothing for several moments and then addressed the droid directly again. "What progress have Tyranus's hound dogs made toward their target?"

"Fett seems to have made an alliance with a female Clawdite bounty hunter whom he encountered on Oovo IV. Montross, meanwhile, has been hunting down potential leads – mostly former members of the Bando Gora and those who have had dealings with them – and as per his usual method of operation he has not yet left one alive."

Plagueis nodded slowly. "He is methodical, and ruthless, qualities which could be good in soldiers. However …"

He trailed off.

"By my understanding of the word, he lacks discipline," said 11-4D, and Plagueis nodded again.

"That is precisely it, FourDee. And we must have discipline in our soldiers." He thought for a moment and then said. "Access whatever is left of the accounts seized from Subtext Mining," he ordered the droid. "Channel the funds through no fewer than twenty different secure and trusted accounts, but ensure that they ultimately reach Jango Fett. Furthermore, give him all of our information regarding Gardulla Besadii and her dealings with the Bando Gora. They once, in concert, tried to murder me, and I would see this bounty hunter eliminate them both."

"Anything further, Supreme Chancellor?"

"No FourDee."

The droid approximated a bow and left the room. Plagueis strode over to the holopad that occupied a corner of the room and input the necessary code to contact Darth Tyranus. Within moments, his apprentice's image, rendered in hologram, appeared before him, this time a live image rather than the recording he had observed with 11-4D.

"Master," Tyranus said, bowing his head.

"Lord Tyranus, you are to go to Kamino," he said without preamble. "I will send the coordinates to your sloop's navicomputer. When you arrive, you will be offered an audience with Prime Minister Lama Su. I will see to it personally. When you meet him, introduce yourself as Master Sifo-Diyas. They were in contact before Sifo-Diyas's capture but they never met face-to-face. You will assume that role."

"Yes, master," Tyranus answered. "Is there anything else that I should know before I meet with the Kaminoans?"

"There will be a further file sent to your ship's central terminal. Of its nature I will not speak on any frequency, even on this one. Suffice to say that it is utterly essential to our plans, and you are to instruct the Kaminoans to have it implanted into the brains of every clone they produce on behalf of Master Sifo-Diyas and the Republic."

Plagueis could sense even across lightyears Tyranus's curiosity, but the Human decided not to press the matter and simply accepted what he had been told.

"Go immediately," Plagueis instructed Tyranus, "and then return to Kohlma. I sense that the hunt for Vosa is nearing its end, and I would have you there to oversee its conclusion. I trust your judgement in how best to handle the moment, but you must ensure Vosa's death."

"Your will is my command, master."

* * *

Glad to leave rain-drenched Kamino, Tyranus almost welcomed his first sight of Bogden as his solar sloop reverted to real space in the planet's system. With the coordinates having saved themselves into the navicomputer from his first visit, the sloop easily drifted down to the same clearing in Kohlma's sinister forests, and it was the same route through the underbrush and past the now-rotting skeletal corpses of those members of the Bando Gora who had tried to kill him on his first visit to the Graveyard Moon.

Where before he had been met with weapons and murderous intent, this time Tyranus was greeted by a cultist wearing a mask made of the skull of a beast. His eyes glowed blue, and he bowed low when Tyranus approached him.

"My lord," he said in a voice not quite his own. "Please, come."

Tyranus followed the wretch into the fortress, and was led to a large and almost completely dark room, lit only by a little light that trickled in through a glass window, and by the bloody glow of two crimson-bladed lightsabers.

"My lord," Vosa said when she saw him, bowing low. She was wearing a leather outfit that only barely covered her modesty, a garment more suited to a Twi'lek dancer than to an aspirant Sith Lord, and Tyranus fought to hide his distaste.

"Two Mandalorians are on their way to kill you, Vosa," Tyranus said, arriving to the point quickly. "End their lives, but first I want you to take them alive and interrogate. In particular, try to discover who it was who hired them. Somebody is interfering in the plans of the Sith, and I would know who."

"My lord," she said again. "Whatever you desire, I shall do it."

"Do not make any mention of me or of the Sith," Tyranus instructed her. "Complete this small task to my satisfaction, and there may be a place for you at my side – as a Lord of the Sith."

Vosa smiled horribly.

"I will do as you command, master."

Tyranus nodded curtly. "I will stay out of sight," he said. "But I will monitor everything. If, somehow, one of these Mandalorians should best you, then be assured that I will reveal myself in your defence. You may rely on me, Komari, as you once did."

 _And now,_ he thought, _for her final role._

* * *

The Mandalorian Jango Fett had killed Montross at the outskirts of the fortress, and had left the corpses of many cultists in his wake as he had cut his way inside. Vosa, however, had trapped him with a skill that Tyranus might have almost called expertly, and now it seemed as though he would need to kill Vosa himself and find a different method of discovering a worthy template for the clone army being grown under Lama Su's supervision in the endless vats of Kamino.

Fett had been attached with electro-manacles to an upright table, and Vosa, accompanied by two hooded and red-eyed Bando Gora cultists, was relishing in her victory over him. Tyranus, hidden in the shadows, watched as she picked up the Mandalorians' helmet and looked it at for several moments before turning her attention back to her captive. She straddled him, as though his lover, and spoke in a silky tone that was nonetheless pregnant with threat.

"Now tell me," she demanded of him. "Who hired you?"

Tyranus tensed himself, ready to kill every living thing in the room if Fett betrayed him at this juncture. But the Mandalorian stayed silent, instead struggling hard against his bonds, his face shining with sweat that ran from every pore as he exerted himself. Vosa traced a finger down Fett's cheek, and Tyranus felt contempt for her envelop him.

"The strong, silent type," Vosa crooned. "I like that, more of a challenge." She paused for a beat and then said, "I once tried to resist, to fight back. But the Bando Gora have ways of weakening your mind and breaking your will. Soon," she added, leaning in close to Fett's left ear, "you will be my slave, bounty hunter."

At those words, Fett redoubled his efforts to break free of the table, and Vosa chuckled malevolently.

"I seem to have touched a nerve," she observed with cruel amusement. "Perhaps you won't last as long as I thought."

Something in the Force made Tyranus look to the door, and there he saw what looked like a female Human, armed with a precision blaster, taking aim at Vosa. He stayed silent, content for the unexpected arrival to play her part in this. She opened fire, but Vosa reacted instantly and her lightsabers caught the bolts and deflected them. One hit the woman in her shoulder and she went down with a cry of pain. Vosa, hatred burning in her eyes, advanced on her new prey, and cackled as the bounty hunter lifted her pistol once again.

But instead of aiming her next shots at Vosa, she aimed them instead at Fett's electro-manacles, which cracked open with a smell of burning circuits, sending the Mandalorian falling forward. He recovered himself almost immediately, snatching up his own dual blaster pistols from a table beside him and opening fire on Vosa. Tyranus watched as his former apprentice turned, blocking and deflecting every shot the Mandalorian sent at her, before retreating down a corridor, further into the citadel. Tyranus followed, using an alternative route and calling on the Force to speed him along, and he had just caught up to Vosa and secured himself a shadowed vantage point when he saw Jango Fett sprint into the chamber as well.

Vosa laughed like a maniac as she observed the newly re-equipped Mandalorian in front of her. Tyranus remembered Galidraan, and how the two of them together had cut down so many of this Mandalorians' former comrades. But Vosa had fallen far since then, and was more of a liability now than Tyranus could tolerate.

"My powers are far beyond any of your barbaric weapons," Vosa said in triumph. "This is where your hunt comes to an end. I will give you a chance to run, before I come hunting for you."

And in that moment, Tyranus knew what must be done.

Delving deeply into the Force, he tapped into the Mandalorians' mind, careful not to make his intrusion known, and proceeded to lend his assistance in Fett's thoughts, reflexes, actions and movements. Finding his skill augmented somehow, Fett unleashed a barrage of blaster bolts, flamethrower jets and explosive wrist rockets in such quick succession that Vosa was forced on to the defensive immediately. Nonetheless, she evaded every attack, and charged at Fett with her lightsabers before her. Tyranus watched as Fett activated his jetpack, and flew toward the chamber's high domed ceiling, still raining blaster fire down on Vosa from on high. Her twin lightsabers moved in never-ending arcs, catching every single bolt, but while she was defending herself she was not attacking, and Tyranus knew Mandalorian battle tactics well enough to know that Fett was merely buying time for himself.

Tyranus decided on a new tactic of his own.

Abandoning his assistance of Fett, he instead tugged at one of Vosa's legs, sending her sprawling. The Mandalorian had only a split-second's window of opportunity, but he took full advantage of it, filling Vosa with blaster fire, and sending her sprawling to the ground.

 _And now, the final execution._

Slowly, almost gently, Tyranus reached out with the Force to grasp Vosa by the throat. Fett approached her prone form warily, and trained one of his blasters on her, but Vosa would not have been any more a threat to him now than a newborn child. Tyranus would make sure of that.

"Which will it be, bounty hunter?" Vosa choked out. "Dead, or alive?"

 _The former_.

Tyranus clamped harder on Vosa's throat, making her breath ragged and wheezing. Although his face was invisible beneath his all-concealing helmet, Fett's confusion was evident.

"He is here –" Vosa started to say, and Tyranus ended her life with a single tightening of his fist.

A moment of silence fell, and Tyranus stepped out of his hiding place.

"Congratulations, bounty hunter," he said to the survivor of the fight.

Reflexively Fett trained his blasters on Tyranus, but lowered them again a moment later.

"Tyranus," he said in recognition.

Approaching the corpse of his former pupil, Tyranus continued to speak to the Mandalorian.

"I am impressed," he said in praise. "No ordinary man can defeat one trained in the Jedi arts – especially one trained by me." He reached down to close Vosa's eyelids. She deserved that much, at least. "Komari Vosa," he said to Fett as he bent over, "was once an excellent pupil, if a bit unstable."

"You knew Vosa was here," Fett said, and Tyranus recognised his tone as one of accusation.

"I thought that she might one day prove to be a valuable ally," he confessed, deciding to give Fett a measure of confidence to secure the man's loyalties. "Instead, she became a liability."

"If you could have easily killed her before," Fett wondered aloud, "why put a price on her head?"

 _He has some measure of intelligence. Good._

"To find you," Tyranus answered simply. "This contest brought you to me. You want your reward, I suppose," he added, and Fett held out his hand. "Five million, was it? Or, perhaps, something much more if you will come with me to Kamino – to be cloned."

Fett removed his helmet, and for the first time Tyranus saw properly the face that would soon be shared by a million and more soldiers in the Grand Army of the Republic. He was black-haired, his skin slightly tanned, and although his clones would not share them he was covered in a variety of scars from a lifetime of battle.

"Imagine," Tyranus continued, knowing now that he had Fett's full attention, "an army of clones, the training of which you will oversee. They will be modified to grow at twice the rate of ordinary men, and will be programmed for absolute loyalty. They will be magnificent, perfect warriors." Tyranus smiled at Fett. "Like yourself."

Fett feigned apathy. "What makes you think I would be interested."

"A chance at immortality," Tyranus answered at once. "A chance to pass on your ways to an army crafted in your image. A great deal of money. How could a man such as you not be interested?"

Fett nodded, accepting all that he heard. "I will accept your offer, Tyranus," he said. "On one condition."

Tyranus frowned. He had not expected this. "Namely?"

"I want the first clone for myself," Fett answered him. "Unmodified." He stressed the first syllable.

Curiosity overtook Tyranus for a moment. "Might I enquire as to why?"

"You might."

Fett said no more, and Tyranus decided not to pursue the matter further. Instead he nodded and extended his hand in business-like fashion.

"Very well, consider it done. We have a deal then, Jango Fett?"

"Deal."

Over Komari Vosa's corpse, the two of them shook hands.


	6. Shadowed in Power

**Chapter Six**

 **Shadowed in Power**

Alone in the LiMerge Building, Darth Sidious waited for his holotransmission to Nute Gunray to be answered. The threat of Sith retribution had secured the Neimoidian's silence, and that of his associates, during their trials several standard months after the failed invasion of Naboo, and now that they had been freed pending further investigation Sidious judged the time right to contact the Trade Federation once again. He had a suspicion that Gunray had been trying to avoid him, but Sidious trusted that the Viceroy knew that to ignore direct contact from a Lord of the Sith was to court certain horror.

Sure enough, after a few moments in which Sidious imagined Gunray hesitating over the panel of his console, the transmission was accepted, and the shimmering blue likeness of the Trade Federation's Viceroy, as well as that of its Settlement Officer Rune Haako, came into life-sized view before him.

"Good evening, Viceroy," Sidious said in a dangerous tone. "I trust you are enjoying the freedom that I arranged for you."

Gunray, plainly terrified, managed to stammer out, "Y-yes, th-thank you, Lord Sidious. I swear that I divulged nothing of your involvement in-"

"Yes," Sidious interrupted, silencing the Neimoidian at once. "Your loyalty is appreciated Viceroy, as it saves me the trouble of killing you." He pretended to consider the matter. "Or perhaps I should end your miserable life regardless."

Stretching across time and space with the Force, Sidious grasped Gunray by the throat, and crushed it hard enough for the Viceroy to fall to his knees with a gasping shriek and clutch at his windpipe.

"You have failed me, Viceroy," Sidious hissed in anger. "I do not take kindly to failure."

"Please, Lord Sidious," Haako tried to intercede, but Sidious glared at him with sufficient ferocity to make Haako fall silent at once.

"You are fortunate indeed, Viceroy, as is the entire Trade Federation, that you are still of some use to me," Sidious said as he released his grip on Gunray's throat. The Neimoidian gasped for air and massaged his neck, and Sidious looked at him with contempt. "Your trials are not over, Gunray. Chancellor Palpatine, in particular, will no doubt demand that you face the Supreme Courts again and again, and each time you must remain silent as to my involvement in your operations, both before this debacle involving Naboo and after."

Gunray blinked in apparent confusion. "After, my lord?"

"Yes, Viceroy," Sidious answered with a malevolent smile. "After. You are not free of my influence in your affairs. Nor will you ever be. Not until I command it to be so."

Gunray lifted an index finger in protest. "Now see here," he began, but Sidious cut him off with another Force Choke.

"Your opinion on our partnership is meaningless to me, Viceroy," he said in a tone that could almost have been called boredom. "You have signed a contract in blood. Now you will honour it." Gunray opened his mouth to speak again but Sidious interrupted him. "I will contact you again when I have further instructions for you. Until then you are not to draw any further attention to yourself. The Trade Federation is to keep its battle droids and its other armaments at their present level, without replenishing any of the losses suffered on Naboo. Senator Lott Dod is to follow Chancellor Palpatine's lead in the Senate, allow him to think he has utterly destroyed your will. In the meantime, Viceroy, wait to be contacted again."

He ended the transmission before Gunray could respond, and walked over to a large window that afforded him a panoramic view over the dark cityscape of The Works. He allowed himself to fall deep into the morass of thought, considering his next move in service to the Grand Plan.

Plagueis's survival the night that Maul had been killed had put restrictions on Sidious that he had not anticipated. He could have let Plagueis die in the Fobosi District twenty years earlier, in the Maladian attack that had left his face ravaged and his lungs in need of the transpirator that was now permanently affixed to the Muun's face. But he had needed Plagueis still then, still had not possessed all of the elder Sith's knowledge of the Force, of eldritch powers that Sidious now had mastery of, and of the path that they would take to bring down the Republic and bring about the revenge of the Sith. He had, he supposed, acted wisely in rescuing Plagueis from the Maladians then. Twenty years later, he had had his second opportunity to rid himself of the Muun's shackles, sending Maul to Cog Hive Seven to attain the nuclear device that he had passed on to Veruna to detonate on Sojourn. Plagueis would have died on the Hunters' Moon if not for Jabba Desilijic Tiure's intervention. At the time Sidious had thought that Plagueis's escape then had been the Force mocking him, but in the more than a year since then he had come to realise that the Force had preserved Plagueis a second time for a reason; to elevate Senator Palpatine to the heights of the Chancellorship. Without the Muun, and his assistance in manipulating events and the Senate both, Sidious begrudgingly accepted that he might never have been able to take his final steps to the Chancellorship.

Now, however, Plagueis was simply an obstruction, an obstacle to Sidious's goals and the growth of his powers both in the political sphere and in the Force. But now that Plagueis was in a position not only of power but of public noticeability, it would be much harder to remove him from the equation than it had ever been before. Following the attempt on his own life, which Sidious still suspected had been orchestrated by Plagueis despite the Muun's words to the contrary, Sidious had followed Iulus Viento's suggestion of creating a new unit of bodyguards for himself and for Plagueis, loyal to none but the two of them. The new Red Guard, as they were known on account of their crimson cloaks and helmets, were all armed with force pikes, blasters, vibroblades, and elite Echani Sun Guard training. Some of the mercenary group had been recruited into the Guard at its inauguration, and Sidious believed that they could become the backbone, or at least the foundation stone, of a clandestine army of Dark Side adepts, subservient to the Sith without being among their number, which he would be able to command and to assign tasks which Chancellor Palpatine would be unable to do for fear of discovery.

Now, though, they would be at Plagueis's command as well. Even Darth Tyranus was not solely Sidious's tool. Everything he had he shared with the Muun, and the thought made him seethe with barely suppressed rage and murderous desire. The worst element of this was, as Sidious saw it, that for the foreseeable future there would be nothing he could do to rectify the error he had made in hesitating that night in Plagueis's suite in 500 Republica. Plagueis was too well protected by their shared office, by the glare of the public eye, by his renewed importance in the Grand Plan.

But Darth Sidious had long since learned patience. What were a few more years to a being who had already waited twenty? What did it matter to him if Plagueis enjoyed the trappings of the Chancellorship for a few years, while Sidious prepared in secret to take his rightful place as sole Lord of the Sith?

And sole Emperor of the galaxy.

* * *

On a remote world far from the edge of Republic space, the Sith Infiltrator _Scimitar_ , an experimental starfighter designed by Darth Tenebrous decades earlier, improved upon Raith Sienar, and once owned by Darth Maul, touched down on a barren wilderness that was home to nothing but rock and petrified plant life thousands of years old. The planet's atmosphere, barely breathable to most forms of life, necessitated Sidious to wear a transpirator mask, and his breath came in rhythmic, metallic rasps.

And yet here, on this desolate world, the Dark Side was stronger than almost anywhere else in the galaxy. Ziost, for all that it was now an inhospitable wasteland, had once been a nexus of the ancient Sith Empire of Vitiate, and a planet teeming with life, wealth and civilisation. From Sidious's research, drawing on sources that were well over three-thousand years old, it seemed that it had been that same Emperor Vitiate who had transformed Ziost, in the course of a single day, into the wasteland that Sidious gazed upon now.

 _Such raw power_ , he thought. _What else was lost with the collapse of the ancient Sith?_

Had this technique been lost with the collapse of Vitiate's empire? Had it been during Lord Kaan's determined break with the past a thousand years before Sidious's time? Or had Sith as recently as five centuries ago known how to ravage entire worlds in moments? Had this been among the Force powers that Darth Gravid had robbed the Sith of forever in his mad destruction of the Order's records, just as he had denied them the knowledge of Force Walking and of Essence Transfer? Regardless, Sidious thought, he would recover the technique and use it to hold the galaxy by its throat. Or, if he could not, if the power of Vitiate truly had been lost forever, then he would fashion his own replacement of it, and impose his will on all sentient life in a manner based more on technology and grandiosity.

Yes, that would be more fitting. Just as Darth Bane had advanced the Sith's methods of obtaining power, so Darth Sidious would advance their methods of keeping it, and of cowing the galaxy into submission. Cold, unemotional technology would do to the whole galaxy what the threat of the Force could to a single world.

But inspiration was not the reason for Sidious's visit to Ziost. He had another purpose in mind.

Using coordinates logged into the _Scimitar_ 's navicomputer by Darth Maul, Sidious had come to Ziost to find something – someone – very specific.

On his orders, Maul had kidnapped a Force-sensitive female Umbaran some months earlier, and stranded her in a cave on the ancient Sith world. Returning periodically to ensure that the Umbaran was alive, and to subject her to torture of both the mind and the body, Maul had also regularly given Sidious updates as to the Umbaran's Force potential, as each time she drew more and more deeply on the Force – and in particular the Dark Side – to try to overpower Maul and escape her imprisonment. She had been defeated by Maul each time, though on Sidious's instruction the Zabrak had never killed the Umbaran, nor done her serious permanent harm.

"Is she to join our enterprise, master?" Maul had once asked Sidious some six standard months before his final defeat on Naboo.

"In some form or another," Sidious had answered. "I have yet to decide. She may be a spy, or an assassin, or perhaps something different. Do not trouble yourself over her role in our Grand Plan, my apprentice."

"Master-" Maul had begun.

"She is hardly your replacement, Darth Maul," Sidious had said, pre-empting the question he sensed was coming. "Your skills took years to hone, and it is a path that she has not even begun down."

But now everything had changed. Maul's death had complicated matters somewhat, and Plagueis had left the task of finding his replacement with Sidious. Perhaps this Umbaran, if she was truly as strong in the Force as Maul had always told Sidious, might just be able to slip into Maul's shoes.

Like a wraith or phantom, Sidious moved as a blur across the petrified terrain of Ziost until he came to a cave marked with an inscription that was Sith in nature but too modern in its appearance to be from the time of Vitiate's Empire. Maul had left the mark at the cave, and now it was Sidious who called on the Force to move aside the large rock that Maul had placed over the cave entrance, allowing the harsh, cold light of Ziost's sun to stream inside.

The Umbaran was there, just as Maul had said.

She was naked, so that Sidious could see her pale, thin, emaciated body. Her head, like all of her kind, was completely bald, and her eyes seemed to stare out from a face that was a skull-like mask of desperation and darkness. Sidious felt the Dark Side build within the Umbaran in a heartbeat before it exploded out of her in a wave. Had Sidious not been as strong in the Force as he was, it might have knocked him off his feet. Instead, he lifted his hand to conjure a shield of Force energy that kept him safe from the Umbaran's attack. He, in turn, lifted her from the ground with the power of his mind, and hurled her clear across the cave so that she slammed into the stone wall opposite him, where the star's light met a dead end.

The Umbaran scrambled to her feet, and as she blinked in the brightness that her kind was ill-adapted for, Sidious sensed another wave of the Force building within her. Then, after a moment, it faded slightly.

"You are not Maul," she said, though the words clearly fatigued her.

"Who is Maul?" Sidious asked, feigning ignorance. "My name is Sidious. Who has done this to you? Was it this Maul you speak of?"

The Umbaran nodded hastily, her eyes wide and fear radiating off her so strongly that it buffeted Sidious like a wind. "Yes. Maul. He kidnapped me from Umbara. Brought me here. Trapped me here. Hurt me here."

She showed Sidious her forearms, which were scarred with lightsaber burns and other, more mundane wounds. Blood had crusted there, and on her body, which was also bruised in many places. Simply moving must have caused her pain. Small wonder that Maul had been able to trap her inside the cave with a rock.

"Your ordeal is over now," Sidious said to her kindly, extending his hand. At first she backed away, wary, but then gradually made her way toward him. "You're safe with me."

"Where is Maul?" the Umbaran asked. "Is he here?"

"I do not know this Maul," Sidious said. "And whoever he is he is not here. You and I, Umbaran, are the only two beings on this world."

"Sly. That is my name. Sly Moore."

Sidious smiled, as he tugged at Sly Moore's mind with the Force, making her trust him and lose her fear of being in his presence.

"Come with me, Sly," Sidious said. "I will restore your strength and amplify it."

Keeping his hand extended, Sidious smiled widely as the ragged Umbaran grasped it in her own.

* * *

"Is she your new Maul?" Plagueis asked as he and Sidious watched through a one-way mirror as the Umbaran Sly Moore ate what was probably her first meal in almost a standard year.

"Not yet, Lord Plagueis," Sidious answered. "Though when she has regained her strength perhaps she will serve the purpose that I had imagined Maul serving before he got himself killed."

Plagueis regarded Sidious with yellow eyes. "As long as she can be relied upon not to get herself in over her head and attempt to fight a Jedi Master one-on-one."

Sidious weathered the gentle rebuke. "I will maker her more wary than I did Maul," he replied. "His overconfidence was his failing, and it is not a mistake that I shall repeat." He fell silent then said, "Have the Kaminoans begun the process of cloning the Mandalorian?"

"They have," Plagueis said, nodding. "The army will be ready in ten standard years, and in due course Damask Holdings will secretly contract Kuat Engineering, Santhe/Sienar Technologies and other weapons manufacturers to create the vehicles and weapons that the clone army will wield in battle."

"Shall I order the Xi Char, the Geonosians, the Techno Union and the rest to develop new weapons for the droid armies, Lord Plagueis?" Sidious asked.

"No," Plagueis said, to Sidious's surprise. "I think it is time for Darth Plagueis to reveal himself to some of the pawns in our game."

"Is that truly wise?" Sidious asked, daring to challenge Plagueis even if it was only with words. "They will be expecting Darth Sidious, and they may not accept the credentials of another who claims to be Sith, especially as I have made no mention of you before."

Plagueis waved his hand. "I will cow them into submission, Darth Sidious," he said with menace in his voice. "They will do my bidding, and yours, without hesitation or complain, whatever we command them to do."

From inside his robe, Plagueis withdrew a holocommunicator, and began to input digits.

"Now?" Sidious asked, unable to completely hide his surprise.

"Now. The heads of the largest manufacturing corporations are currently meeting at a Damask Holdings-funded conference on Murkhana, and it is unlikely that we will be able to contact all of them so quickly again soon."

Sidious smiled at Plagueis's words. "You engineered this gathering for precisely this reason."

"And now we reap the benefit."

Knowing that the attendees of the conference would be startled by the sudden appearance on their holocommunicator of two blue, cloaked and hooded images, Sidious smiled when he saw likenesses of a host of beings appear before him.

"Who are you?" demanded Wat Tambor, the Skakoan foreman of the Techno Union.

"Benefactors," answered Plagueis, disguising his voice by altering the frequency settings of his transpirator mask. "We had believed that you are beings of business interested in profit. Is that not the case?"

"It is," answered the diminutive Gossam Shu Mai of the Commerce Guild. "But we cannot be certain that two …" She searched for the right word. "Apparitions will be able to provide us with the guarantees necessary to ensure our trust in their claim to be benefactors. For all we know, you could be anarchists or anti-corporatist hackers who have hijacked our communications sys-"

She broke off, clutching at her throat as she collapsed to her knees. Plagueis's outstretched hand was curled into a half-fist, and his glare sent those closest to the holocommunicator back a few steps.

"That is our guarantee," he said. "Know that we have the power to end every one of your lives with a thought."

"Are you errant Jedi?" ventured Tambor.

Plagueis laughed hollowly. "We are Lords of the Sith, Foreman Tambor, and you should treat us with the deference that we deserve."

"Lords of-"

"You are not the first beings we have made contact with," Sidious said, cutting Tambor off. "But know that through us your companies, your corporations, your conglomerates and your consortia will all benefit immensely. Great profits will be yours. Power in the Senate will be yours. All you need do is follow our instructions to the letter." He paused, to ensure that he had the rapt attention of every being in the room. "Now listen, and listen well."


	7. The Shape of Things to Come

**Chapter Seven**

 **The Shape of Things to Come**

The Institute of Applied Science had been an unknowing beneficiary of Damask Holdings for decades. As far back as the last years of his apprenticeship under Darth Tenebrous, Plagueis had foreseen that the Institute might be a wellspring of talent from which his plans for the galaxy might be able to draw capable – and, if they were kept in the dark, perhaps even willing – participants. Consequently, the Institute had seen its budgets rise steadily for some forty years, and that had allowed it to extend its reach far beyond the Core and bring in gifted staff members from places that it would never have been able to search before.

Plagueis's insistence, therefore, that he be the Supreme Chancellor who attended the Institute's annual gala dinner was met with little resistance by Darth Sidious, who had pressing matters of his own – Sith business in his case – to attend to on Vjun. Knowing that Jedi would also be present, Plagueis cloaked himself in the mundane sphere and strode into the hired dining hall with an accompaniment of the new Red Guard flanking him and 11-4D by his side. As he entered, the gathered attendees stood and every eye was fixed on him.

"Chancellor Damask," said the Institute's Duros chief, extending a grey hand which Plagueis shook. "Welcome. You honour us with your presence."

"Your invitation was an honour in itself, Doctor Ferrugh," Plagueis said. "I have long admired the work that the Institute of Applied Science undertakes."

He cast his gaze around the room, and took in the variety of species that made up the Institute's membership. Humans were most in evidence, but there were also Neimoidians, Rattataki, Twi'leks, Togruta, Miraluka, Ongree and a host of others that made the Institute seem to be almost a microcosm of the galaxy.

Plagueis was shown to his seat at the centre of the top table, and food was brought out and set before the diners. Helping himself to fresh fruits and vegetables, which he ingested by means of a hatch in his transpirator mask, Plagueis fell into relaxed conversation with Doctor Ferrugh about the Institute's projects, both those currently being undertaken and those that were being planned pending additional funding. Funding which Plagueis was secretly confident the Institute would one day discover from its anonymous backer.

"We are currently looking into the feasibility of major, ground-breaking research into the field of crystallography," the Duros scientist said excitedly. "Yes, I know what you're thinking Chancellor," he said with a laugh before Plagueis had a chance to respond. "It is a well-covered topic, not least by the Jedi Order. But I am confident that there is something fundamental in crystallography which other researchers – including and perhaps even in particular the Jedi – have overlooked."

Plagueis was genuinely curious. "What would that be, Doctor Ferrugh?"

Waving a self-deprecating hand, Doctor Ferrugh said, "I confess, Chancellor, to having a poor understanding of crystallography myself. It's not my area at all. But we do have here at the Institute a brilliant young professor, just joined us last year."

Half-standing from his seat, the Duros called to a young Human who was in conversation with an Ithorian whom Damask recognised as a prominent expert in the field of planetary magnetics.

"Galen! Galen!"

The Human looked over and then excused himself from his companion, abandoning his dinner but bringing his glass of Cerean wine. When he reached them he extended a hand to Damask, who shook it politely.

"It's an honour to meet you Chancellor Damask," the man said, inclining his head as he spoke. "Galen Erso, at your service."

"A pleasure to meet you, Professor Erso," Plagueis replied. "I am told that you are something of an authority on crystallography."

Erso smiled in mild embarrassment, though it was plain that he himself agreed with the assessment of Doctor Ferrugh.

"Galen is not just a crystallographer," Doctor Ferrugh said enthusiastically, tapping the young man in the chest with an index finger. "He is quite the polymath. Mathematics, physics, engineering, nothing seems to be beyond his mental faculties. Tell us, you speak how many languages, Galen?"

"Six," the young Professor Erso answered. "As well as Basic I am fluent in Mirialan, Huttese, Bith, Ryl and Falleen."

"And tell the Chancellor how many languages you are currently learning," Ferrugh said, the light of excitement by proxy in his eyes.

"Four more," Erso answered. "The doctor here is teaching me Durese, and I have smatterings of the Naboo dialect, Ithorese and Muun."

"Muun?" Plagueis said, the note of interest in his voice real. He switched to the language to say, "How are you finding the language of my people?"

Erso frowned, paused for a moment and then said in Basic, "I think I understood about eighty percent of that, Chancellor. But I'm afraid that my knowledge of your native tongue is not yet enough to be able to converse with a being born to the language."

Plagueis widened his eyes. "Regardless it is rare indeed to meet a being of such varied abilities," he said in genuine compliment. "Especially in one so young. Forgive me, Professor Erso, I am not particularly well-versed in Human physiology. But I would be surprised if you were any older than thirty standard years."

Erso smiled again, that same look of embarrassed agreement. "Twenty-four," he said. "Twenty-five in three standard months."

Plagueis was surprised by Erso's youth relative to his capabilities. A being such as this was a rare thing indeed, and if Erso's mind, faculties and research could somehow be turned toward the furtherment of the Sith's eventual goals then it was possible that he would have a greater role in shaping galactic history than the young Human had ever dreamed of.

"And what is this element of crystallography that the Jedi have overlooked?" Plagueis asked. "Please, Professor Erso, explain the science to me as though I know nothing on the subject."

"I believe," said Galen Erso without further hesitation or preamble, "that the Kyber crystals that the Jedi use to power their lightsabers are even more energy-rich than anyone has ever suspected." The Human scientist appraised Plagueis for a moment. "Pardon, Chancellor, but how much do you know about energy?"

Plagueis was in fact well-versed in many aspects of science, not least that of Kyber crystals, but he decided to keep such details to himself and to instead play the role that Erso and Ferrugh were expecting.

"It can be neither created nor destroyed," he answered slowly. "But beyond that I am little better than ignorant."

Galen Erso raised a finger as though to make a point. "My research, Chancellor, has shown that Kyber crystals are capable of breaking that fundamental law of reality. They can create energy, seemingly indefinitely, if properly acted upon by outside stimuli."

Plagueis was disappointed, though not in Erso personally. The young man was plainly brilliant, it was merely a question of steering him in other, more beneficial, directions.

"We have detained you from your dinner and conversation long enough, Professor Erso," Plagueis said, shaking Erso's hand once again. "But I do not think this will be the final time we speak to one another."

Erso thanked Plagueis for his kind words and rejoined his Ithorian friend. Plagueis turned to Doctor Ferrugh.

"How did you acquire such an impressive mental specimen?" he asked.

"He has glowing references with regards to his intelligence and abilities as far back as his school days," Ferrugh answered. "One might call Galen Erso a diamond in the rough."

"How so?"

"He comes from Grange, a world that few beings have heard of and even fewer have any desire to visit. It is –"

"I am familiar with Grange," Plagueis interrupted the Duros.

Doctor Ferrugh smiled forcedly. "Forty years ago, the Institute would have never been able to recruit him. Grange is not a world that is on the priority lists of many interplanetary bodies, especially those with limited budgets. But for the past few decades our credit balance has remained healthy thanks to some wealthy and influential backers."

Plagueis feigned curiosity. "Could you tell me who these enterprising beings are?"

Ferrugh blew out a sigh of long-standing disappointment. "Alas not Chancellor. The credits simply appear in our accounts monthly, and we have been unable to ascertain their source. Of course, my predecessors in this post, as well as our accountants, tried to investigate the matter thoroughly."

Plagueis gave Ferrugh a frown. "And they failed to discover who had been channelling credits to the Institute?"

"They concluded with almost irrefutable certainty that they did not come from any criminal organisations," Ferrugh said in a tone that Plagueis might have called placatory, as though Ferrugh had just realised that speaking to a Supreme Chancellor of the Republic – and one who had been a well-known financier at that – was not strictly speaking in his best interests. "We are not being funded by Black Sun, Chancellor, or by Jabba Desilijic Tiure."

"I am gratified to hear it," Plagueis said. "Well, as long as the credits are coming from a legitimate source it is hardly worth looking a gift guarlara in its maw."

"My sentiments precisely," smiled Doctor Ferrugh, and the two of them clinked their glasses together.

"Did you record the conversation, FourDee?" Plagueis asked the droid when Ferrugh had vacated his seat and moved off to join a group that included a Kaleesh, a Zabrak and a Rodian.

"Yes, Chancellor," the droid answered. "Every word is logged."

"Excellent," Plagueis said.

Ferrugh was a being who was utterly without consequence, and Plagueis could sense all too well the Duros's lack of scruples. While that was an admirable trait, indeed one which the Sith had taken to its final logical extreme, it also made for poor partners. And based on his meeting with Galen Erso, Plagueis was already formulating plans for the future of the Institute of Applied Science.

Plans which did not include Doctor Ferrugh.

* * *

Vjun was a planet perpetually soaked in rain so acidic that it had prevented the growth of any significant plant life. Its surface was brown and barren, and the only lifeforms that managed to call it home were extremophilic and limited in number.

That the desolate world had once been home to an advanced civilisation in the centuries before the birth of the Republic was a fact that most in the wider galaxy were completely unaware of. But the ancient Sith, dating back as far as the time of the first Sith Empire of King Adas, had studied the species that had given the world its name in detail, and even many centuries after their extinction the Sith still found themselves drawn to Vjun.

Perhaps it was a lingering attachment to the strong Dark Side resonance of the planet, but to the mind of Darth Sidious as he looked out from one of the balconies of the ancient fortress known as Bast Castle, it was more to do with Vjun's remoteness and effectiveness as a hideaway from the eyes of the wider galaxy. Jedi seldom visited Vjun, and when they did they never left the planet again.

"This will be your home now," Sidious said to Sly Moore as the two of them stood beneath a durasteel awning that protected their heads from the lethal rainfall. "It is not much to look at, but you will be safe here. Maul will not be able to find you, I promise you that."

Moore smiled broadly in great relief. "Thank you, Lord Sidious," she said. "Will I be alone here?"

"At first, yes," Sidious said to her. "But this will make you all the stronger. You will learn self-reliance and strength in isolation. In time others will join you here, and you will be the first among them. My Dark Side Adepts."

"Your apprentice."

The word was said with a note of expectation, and Sidious scowled at Moore for the first time. She recoiled slightly, sensing the irritation and suppressed anger within him. She had sensed it immediately upon their meeting, of course, and she had been by turns wary of him and desperate for his attention and approval ever since.

"No," Sidious answered her bluntly. "My pupil, yes. My agent, yes. My tool, even, yes. But not my apprentice. Not yet, at any rate. Perhaps, one day, if you prove yourself to me sufficiently …"

He left the thought hanging in the air, knowing that it would provide the Umbaran with all the motivation she would ever need to carry out his commands and be ever loyal to him.

"Sidious," Moore began.

"From now on you will address me as Lord," Sidious corrected her. "Or master, or Darth Sidious. If you are to be my pupil, Moore, you will also be my subordinate. That is the way of the Sith."

Moore bowed her head. "As you say, master."

"What did you wish to say to me?" Sidious asked her, looking away as he spoke, casting has gaze back out across the Vjun wasteland beyond the fortress.

"When will my training begin?" Moore asked.

"It already has," Sidious told her without looking at her. "The isolation in this castle, the hostility of Vjun, the necessity of survival despite both of these challenges, this will be your first test in my service. It will be difficultly passed and easily failed, but should you still live and breathe and retain your sanity when I return, I believe that that will be a signal from the Dark Side that you can indeed be trained." He turned to face her again. "The way of the Dark Side – of the Sith – is difficult. Far more difficult than that of the Jedi. We know what it is to feel loss, to hurt, to be consumed with fiery rage at the galaxy and its injustices. And yet this is what gives us strength."

Neither of them said anything for long moments as the rain hammered audibly on stone and metal.

"Peace is a lie," Moore said eventually.

Sidious looked at her in genuine astonishment.

"Where you did hear that phrase?"

"I have searched for the Sith before," said Moore. "When I was young, on Umbara. Peace is a lie," she said again. "There is only passion."

"Through passion I gain strength," Sidious said in answer, reciting the ancient Sith Code whose origins were so old that they had been lost to time. "Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory my chains are broken."

"The Force shall free me," Moore finished.

Sidious raised an index finger, as though a teacher in a classroom of younglings.

"The Dark Side shall free us."

Moore knelt before him, the first time she had done so. "As you say, my master." She looked up at him with something akin to a plea in her large white eyes. "How long will I be alone here?"

"A standard year," Sidious answered without emotion. "Perhaps longer. You will have no contact from me until I return. You will be completely on your own."

For a moment a look of fear and trepidation crossed Moore's face. Then she annihilated it and her face set into a look of grim determination.

"I was lone in the cave for months," she said. "Here, at least, I will be able to breathe."

Sidious bristled. "This will not be easy," he warned her. "Vjun is not a forgiving world, and you may find yourself without food or even water for days, even weeks at a time. Remember the Force, my pupil. Remember the Dark Side."

"I will put my utmost faith in it, master," Moore said.

"The wrong approach," Sidious admonished her. "Do not think of the Dark Side as a friend to rest your weary head on. It is a wolfish predator, and if it senses any weakness in you it will claim you as its own. Perhaps you will die, perhaps you will be driven mad, but if you allow it to the Dark Side will take you." He looked Moore straight in the eyes once more, and locked her with such a fiery gaze that the Umbaran began to quiver with fear. "That is why you must break it, make it your creature, command it through the power of your will. That is the way of the Sith, Moore."

She nodded. "Then that is what I will aspire to."


	8. The Heart of the Enemy

**Chapter Eight**

 **The Heart of the Enemy**

The Jedi Temple was a massive, sprawling labyrinth of corridors, passageways, and branching rooms. Although the thousands of Order members who called the enormous complex home had no difficulty in navigating their way around it, Palpatine would never have been able to make his way to where he intended to go without following the lead of his Jedi guide.

"Master Jinn is in here, Chancellor," the young Cathar Jedi Knight who had met Palpatine at the Temple entrance said after several minutes of walking. "I believe he is expecting you."

"Thank you," Palpatine said, giving the Jedi a grateful smile.

"May the Force be with you, Chancellor."

The Cathar walked off, and Palpatine entered the room that he had been brought to. From inside, he could hear the reports of small-arms blaster fire and the hum and buzz of a lightsaber.

"Keep control of your form, Anakin," said the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn. "Do not become overconfident."

The lightsaber thrummed again, and Palpatine saw the boy Anakin, a year older than when they had last seen each other in the Chancellors' office, a blue training saber in hand and a visor over his eyes as he deflected blaster bolts fired at him by small, spherical training remotes that floated in the air out of his reach. The idea, Palpatine believed, was that trainees would use the Force to sense the location of the remote and the future paths of the blaster bolts without relying on their eyesight. And it seemed as though young Anakin had already mastered the technique, as he sent back every bolt the remotes fired. One of them even struck the remote that had fired it, and it shattered into a hundred or more tiny pieces on the training room floor.

Palpatine announced his presence, applauding lightly at the display. "Very impressive, Anakin," he said, a smile on his lips and in his voice. "Very impressive indeed. You must be proud indeed, Master Jinn."

Anakin removed the vision-obscuring visor and failed to suppress a smile at Palpatine's words.

"Thank you, Chancellor," he said, turning his eyes expectantly toward Qui-Gon, who seemed to bristle under the boy's hopeful expression.

"Your form still needs work, Anakin," Qui-Gonn said, causing the boy's face to flicker with anger before it became crestfallen. "You are improving all the time, but you are not as good as you think you are."

"But I destroyed the remote," Anakin insisted.

"To my untrained eyes," Palpatine said, scenting opportunity, "that seemed to be an excellent display of lightsaber wielding and use of the Force, especially in one so young and inexperienced."

Palpatine favoured the boy with a smile again, and Anakin returned the expression, grateful to have the Chancellor on his side.

"You have great potential, Anakin," Qui-Gon said to his Padawan. "But potential is not the same as real talent. That only comes with practice."

Anakin looked as though he might have been about to argue, and then he thought better of it and bowed his hand.

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon," he said.

Something in Qui-Gon's manner relented, and he finally smiled at his Padawan. "You have a great destiny before you, Anakin. But you must first learn self-control and humility, like all Jedi."

Palpatine barely restrained a scoff of derision. He could think of several Jedi, many of whom had been elevated to mastery within the Order, who had never learned such lessons. Dooku had been one, Sifo-Diyas perhaps another, Jorus C'Baoth a third. Even Qui-Gon, for all his words to his young trainee, was susceptible to moments of arrogance and brash overconfidence.

"Again," Qui-Gon said.

He pressed a button on a wall panel, and another remote appeared from a hidden hatch in the ceiling. Anakin quickly pulled on the helmet that left him unable to see, and re-activated the blue-bladed training saber in his hand. The remote moved silently, orbiting Skywalker several times. He kept pace with it, as though he could see it perfectly clearly, and when the remote sent three small red bolts his way, Anakin raised the blue blade with a hum, and blocked each of the energy beams, sending them ricocheting off his weapon and into the floor and walls. The small droid tried again to catch the boy off-guard, but again Anakin met the blaster bolts expertly, this time batting one of them back toward the remote, which shattered onto the floor as the first had done.

"Well done, Anakin," Palpatine called to the boy, smiling beatifically once more. "Very well done."

Qui-Gon said nothing. Instead he dismissed Anakin, and the boy left, smiling one more time at Palpatine before he exited the training room. Palpatine returned the expression, then turned his attention back to Qui-Gon Jinn.

"He seems an excellent pupil," he said. "Your early faith in him was well-founded it seems."

"The boy's destiny is undeniable," Qui-Gon answered, noncommittally. "And in time he will come to understand that a great destiny does not necessarily make one a great being."

"I am sure." Palpatine said nothing for a few moments and then decided to test the waters. "Was that how Master Dooku instructed you?"

Qui-Gon frowned for a heartbeat before regaining control of his features. "Largely," he answered. "Though my master was not a perfect teacher. I hope to remedy some of the flaws in his training methods."

Palpatine quirked an eyebrow, pretending curiosity. "Such as?"

"Master Dooku was always quick to dismissal," Qui-Gon answered. "It always felt that I was never up to his standards. I daresay that Keelyvine Reus and Komari Vosa often felt the same way."

"Three Padawans," Palpatine observed. "And you have already outstripped him. Anakin is your fourth, is he not?"

A shadowed look crossed Qui-Gon's face, as Palpatine had hoped.

"He is," he answered. "Though I failed so terribly once that I was not sure I would ever be fit to train another Jedi ever again."

Palpatine knew to what the Jedi Master was referring.

"Master Dooku told me about Xanatos," he said as though in confession, though in truth he had been aware of the events at the time thirteen years earlier. "And from the way he described it, you were not at fault. The young man was simply not cut out to be a Jedi."

Qui-Gon shook his head sadly. "I was his master, the failing was mine. I should have done something differently, done something …" He cast about for the right word. "Done something more for him, perhaps."

"You seem to have learned from your errors," Palpatine said. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is a fine member of your Order, and I am sure that Anakin will-"

"Anakin will fall into the same pit as Xanatos if I do not ensure otherwise," Qui-Gon said. He held up an apologetic hand. "I should not have interrupted you, Chancellor. I am sorry."

Palpatine smiled beatifically. "That's quite alright, you are still Human even if you are a Jedi Master."

"You see how poor an example I set for the boy," Qui-Gon said. "It is a daily source of worry to me, Chancellor, I do not deny it."

Palpatine cocked his head slightly. "Do you sense a great deal of darkness lurking within the boy?"

Qui-Gon's silence was answer enough for Palpatine, and when Qui-Gon's back was turned he allowed himself – for a moment only – to smile with triumph.

* * *

Standing before the holotransmitter in the LiMerge Building, Darth Plagueis readied himself and removed the transpirator mask that would otherwise betray his identity. Calling on the Force to assist with his breathing, his inhalations were nonetheless strained, ragged and painful as he stepped onto the transmitter pad and waited for a moment before a life-sized image of the Geonosian aspirant Archduke Poggle the Lesser appeared before him.

Poggle clicked and whirred in alarm; the strange language of his people was not one that Plagueis had ever mastered, and he relied on 11-4D, listening from Plagueis's suite in 500 Republica via an audiolink, to interpret for him.

"He is questioning worker drones as to how you have appeared, master," the droid intoned through a communicator attached to Plagueis's right ear.

"Cease your racket," Plagueis commanded, and to underline the strength of his presence and his words he forced the Geonosian to his knees, curling his fingers into claws and moving them as though pushing down on an unyielding surface.

"Who are you?" Poggle asked, his words translated by 11-4D. "You have the Force, but this is not the work of a Jedi."

"Who I am is less important than why I have contacted you," Plagueis said. "And besides, you are not yet ready to hear."

"If I am to be bullied in this manner," Poggle replied angrily, "then I demand to know the name of my tormentor."

Plagueis sneered. "You do not make demands of me," he snarled. "Not if you want my help."

Poggle opened his mandibled mouth to reply, but said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he broke the silence and said, "What makes you think that I require your help?"

Plagueis permitted himself a hollow, mirthless, cruel laugh. "Your would-be revolution is faltering, is it not?" he asked, and revelled in the surprise he saw on Poggle's insectoid face. "Come, come, Poggle. Did you really think that the goings-on of so important a world as Geonosis would not be noticed by those of us who make it our business to remain appraised of all galactic events of significance? Your Archduke Hadiss has been a useful ally until now, if an unknowing one. But his time has come, and I have need of a new contact on Geonosis."

Poggle was visibly baffled. "Do you have informants in my hive?" he asked.

"I have informants on every world of note," Plagueis replied. "I have eyes in every spaceport, ears in every settlement. I am appraised at all times of all things. And I have been watching your little rebellion for months now."

"If you have been aware of our struggle from the beginning," Poggle said, still on his knees though Plagueis had long since ceased exerting the pressure of the Force on him, "why have you not contacted me before?"

Plagueis smiled, pleased that the prospective Archduke had thought to ask such a question. It proved his intelligence, and therefore his worth as an associate.

"Had it been Hadiss who now cowered in fear on the edge of a barely-civilised desert, a paltry hundred supporters left to his name, it would be him whom I would now be courting."

"You have an affinity for under-"

"Do not presume to know my motives," Plagueis said harshly, silencing the Geonosian at once. "But as a gesture of goodwill, I will tell you. No, it is not simply charitable feeling that brings me to you. My needs are, in truth, far more selfish than that."

Plagueis paused for a moment or two, allowing himself the pleasure of savouring the words before he spoke them.

"I have the power to lift you from this pitiful wretchedness you find yourself in, and within a standard year pave the way for you to reign as Archduke of all of Geonosis."

 _Grandiose, but well within the capabilities of a Sith._

Poggle's eyes grew wide. "How? I doubt there has been a situation more hopeless than mine in all of galactic history."

Plagueis gave the Geonosian another empty laugh. "Then you are a poor student of the history texts. Have you never heard of the Battle of Bothawui? Of the fall of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul? Of the defeat of the Brotherhood of Darkness on Ruusan? There have been many facing far more dire fates than you who have pulled themselves out of the wreckage that, so often, they cast themselves into."

Poggle weathered Plagueis's hidden rebuke, and when he next spoke it was in a voice that Plagueis could have almost described as hopeful – excited, even.

"What assistance can you offer me?"

Plagueis frowned. "At first, nothing," he answered. "I require you to hold your position for half a standard year, and then I will dispatch terror itself among the forces of Hadiss and his High Command. It will be as if a spectral enemy is within their midst. At the same time, you will see a massive influx in your levels of funding and the magnitude and quality of weapons technology available to you. You will, I am sure, not waste such an opportunity. Hadiss will be dead very soon, of that I am confident."

Poggle gave Plagueis a quizzical look. "You ask much and promise little," he observed. "I did not get to where I am by taking such offers at face value."

"You got to where you are today by your own foolishness and blindness," Plagueis replied in a growl. "If you do not wish to be my ally then very well. I will end this communication now and you will die before this standard week is out."

Poggle looked chastened, and when he spoke it was in a hurried, panicked tone.

"No, no, your help would be much appreciated."

"As I expected," Plagueis replied with contempt. "Half a standard year, Poggle. If you cannot survive that long then you will not be worthy of my assistance, and you will die in a wasteland desert with only the scavengers to notice as they pick your exoskeleton clean. If, however, you prove your worth to me, you will soon be Archduke, and all of your kind will kneel to you. You can make Hadiss into a plaything for the reek and nexu of your arenas, and those watching will cheer your name until they are deafened by it."

Poggle's eyes were gleaming, and Plagueis knew that he was dealing with a being of rare ambition. All the better, then. He would be that much easier to manipulate as time went on and one goal after another was achieved.

"I would know who you are," Poggle said. "I think I am owed that much."

"You are owed nothing," Plagueis said sternly. "If we speak again, Poggle, it will be when you have my support. Then, and only then, will I tell you who I am."

Plagueis ended the transmission as Poggle opened his mandibles to speak once more, but he did not move from the holopad. He replaced his transpirator mask, breathing in gratefully as it secured itself over his mouth.

"FourDee, contact Chancellor Palpatine. Use the frequency we reserve only for ourselves."

"Yes, Chancellor Damask."

The droid worked in silence for several moments, and then its voice sounded in Plagueis's ear once more.

"Chancellor Palpatine is ready to receive your transmission, Chancellor Damask."

Plagueis touched a button on the console at his fingertips, and a clear, well-defined image of Sidious appeared before him. He was dressed as Chancellor Palpatine rather than as the Dark Lord of the Sith, in expensive and fashionable red robes and a blue tunic, but in his eyes Plagueis could see clearly the expression of one who had touched the darkness and survived its grasp.

"You have contacted the Geonosian?" Sidious said without preamble or hesitation.

"I have," Plagueis replied. "He is willing to accept our support, though I will ensure that he is worth our attention before committing our resources to his cause – whether credits or otherwise."

"Half a standard year," Sidious said, musing. "Do you think that he will survive so long, with so little support of his own and his enemies closing in all the time?"

"I care little," Plagueis answered. "If Hadiss should eliminate Poggle and his rebels before then, he is already our creature. We would simply need to make him beholden to us, but that should prove simple enough. Geonosis is ours, Lord Sidious, whatever may happen on its surface."

Sidious smiled, pleased at what he heard. "When the time comes I will dispatch Moore to Hadiss's fortress. I will tell her that it will be her final test, and that completion of it will prove her strength in my eyes."

Plagueis curled a finger beneath his chin. "Will that be sufficient motivation for her?"

Sidious nodded. "It will. She is determined to impress me, and looks to me for approval and guidance." The two of them fell silent for several moments before Sidious said, "Our plans advance steadily, Darth Plagueis."

"They do," Plagueis agreed. "Evidence, I think, that the Dark Side approves of our actions, and encourages our success. The dominance of the Light Side of the Force for the past thousand years must be addressed, Lord Sidious, and it is the task of the Sith to return a modicum of balance to the Force and to the galaxy."

"And the destruction of the Jedi Order."

"That above all, Darth Sidious," Plagueis answered. "Thousands will die in the war to come, and when your efforts with the boy Anakin at last bear fruit, we shall annihilate them from the inside out."

"And what if more should be needed?" Sidious asked. "We must always plan for failure."

Plagueis nodded sagely and said in a low, threatening tone, "Then I will march on their Temple myself, Darth Sidious, and I will show them the terrible revenge that the Sith have spent a millennium planning for them." He inhaled, then resumed, "Their time is almost at hand. And when the Jedi have been destroyed, the Sith will stand as masters of the galaxy."


	9. Baptism of Fire

**Chapter Nine**

 **Baptism of Fire**

Rain drops stung and itched as Sly Moore made her way tentatively out of Bast Castle and onto the rocky, wasted surface of Vjun. She resisted the urge to attend to the irritation, instead letting it evolve quickly into a searing, burning agony that made her want to tear the flesh from her bones. Lord Sidious had told her that she would find strength in her pain, and that was a lesson she meant to remember well. When he returned, he would find her strong and capable, worthy of his attention and his training.

Although Vjun's acidic rainfall had made the development of life on its surface almost impossible, some creatures had still managed to evolve on the planet's surface. The Vjun Fox, for example, had evolved so that its fur coat was resistant – almost completely impervious, even – to all but the strongest acids, and even its eyes were protected by a thin film that nonetheless kept the corrosive water that fell persistently from Vjun's brown-yellow skies from blinding the creature.

It was one of these foxes that Moore was now hunting, as she had done every few days since Darth Sidious had left her on this world. The animals' meat was tough and gamey, but it was her only source of nutrition; Bast Castle had contained no supplies of anything, and Moore had realised quickly that this was part of the gruelling test that Sidious had created for her.

The fox that she stalked now was lapping at a pool of stagnant and acidic water, another of its evolutionary adaptations to life on this unforgiving world. Moore, whose Umbaran physiology gave her no such advantage, had been forced to keep herself conscious and alive through the power of the Force alone as she had searched for a source of drinkable water. She had eventually found one, two standard weeks after Sidious had left her, in a cave five kilometres from the fortress, and she had subsisted on its underground wellspring ever since.

The fox lifted its head, smelling the air, and Moore stopped and crouched low. She was upwind of the animal, so it could not be her scent it had caught, but even so she could not allow the creature to see her. She could have simply used the Force to wring the animal's neck from afar, but Moore preferred to hunt for her prey without calling on her innate abilities. She had a sense that Sidious would think her more capable if she abstained from using the Dark Side.

The fox's fur, matted with acidic residue, stood on end as much as it could, but after a few tense moments the animal lowered its head to the water once more. Whatever the fox had felt threatened by seemed to have moved on.

Moore crept ever closer, grateful for the persistence of the wind in her face. She was silent as the grave as she came within three metres of the fox, two, one.

Leaping at her prey at the last moment, Moore seized the animal by its tail and by its back. It struggled and writhed, yelping in panic and turning its head to sink sharp fangs into her hand. The creature drew blood and bit deeply, but Moore's hands and arms were covered in the scars from such encounters, and she had long since grown accustomed to taking such small injuries. She drew on them, allowed the pain to feed her ever-growing power in the Dark Side, and found that her teeth were bared in a silent snarl. She increased the pressure she placed on the fox' back, and its legs began to give way and buckle. Eventually she heard a snap, and the creature went limp.

Moore picked up the small, still body of the thick-furred animal, holding it by the neck as though she had strangled it, and carried it as she traipsed back, through the driving, stinging rain, to Bast Castle.

Sidious would come, she knew he would. He had promised to return after a standard year, and Moore had used a rock to scratch a daily tally on one of the walls of the fortress. A working chrono, just about the only thing she had found in Bast Castle that still functioned, alerted her every twenty-four standard hours, and she would make another scratch on the wall with her rock. The wall was filling with them, line after line after line in groups of four with a fifth slashed across each one at the end of each standard week. Thus far, by Moore's reckoning, she had been on Vjun for one standard week longer than the year Sidious had promised her.

She was becoming agitated and frightened, though she trained to suppress her feelings and channel her fear and anger into the Dark Side of the Force. Running a hand over her bald head in agitation, she repeated herself the mantra she had been repeating every day that Sidious had been overdue.

"He is coming. He said he would come. One standard year. He said he would come. He is coming."

She allowed herself to believe, for the dozenth time, that as she neared Bast Castle through the driving, stinging rain, that Sidious would be waiting for her when she arrived, his arrow-shaped starship ready to take her away from Vjun's hellscape forever.

At first, she thought she might be hallucinating, that the permanent physical and mental torture of Vjun had finally taken its toll on her sanity. She blinked, looking up again at the ramparts of the castle.

And there he was, black robed and hooded as he had been when he had last been there over a standard year before.

"Lord Sidious!" she shouted, loudly enough that several avian-like creatures took flight into the acidic downpour in panic.

Moore dropped the dead fox and sprinted to the castle, hurtling up the worn stairs and past crumbling masonry that she was now as familiar with as she was with the lines on her palms. She raced out onto the rampart to see Sidious waiting for her, halted for a moment as though deciding whether or not he was truly there, then genuflected before him, her head bowed and her heart racing.

"My lord," she breathed, tears in her eyes. "My lord, you have come for me at last. Take me away from here. Take me away and make me your weapon, your lightsaber, your stalwart right hand."

Sidious said nothing for long moments, merely looked down his nose at Moore from beneath his hood. Then he extended the long fingers of his right hand, inviting Moore to take it in her own. She looked up, a look of purest ecstasy and joy on her face, and she gratefully slid her palm into Sidious's.

Her fingers passed right through Sidious's palm as though it were mere air. Wide-eyed with surprise, Moore tried again. And again, there was nothing for her to hold onto. She tried to seize hold of Sidious's robes, desperate to cling onto some part of him. But each time, she clasped nothing but emptiness.

Sidious laughed. It was low and sinister, the most wicked sound Moore had ever heard, and she knew than that she must have been driven insane by Vjun after all. She screamed and screamed to the empty castle, as Sidious laughed and laughed, and then vanished entirely.

* * *

On Coruscant, hidden away in the depths of the LiMerge Building, Sidious pulled himself out of the Force projection that had enabled him to appear before Moore on Vjun so many lightyears away. The energy required to perform such projections, and across such vast distances, was colossal, and Sidious almost collapsed as he returned to his derelict post-industrial surroundings. An older being, a weaker one, one less used to saturating themselves in the Force day and night, might have been killed by the effort. But Sidious was merely winded, and he resumed his feet within moments.

This final torment of his Umbaran servant was not an act of mindless cruelty. Rather, it would make her all the more bound to him when he arrived on Vjun in the flesh in a few standard days' time.

Then the work of training Moore would begin in earnest. Sidious had already made the necessary adjustments to the LiMerge Building's lower levels to allow an Umbaran to live there in a modicum of comfort. The lighting was low and ultraviolet, and Sidious had also arranged to have a facsimile of the mixture of gases that pervaded Umbara's surface to fill the lower levels of the building periodically. Moore would be grateful, he was certain, and in her gratitude, she would pledge herself to Sidious and to the Sith cause entirely.

And she would be willing, even eager, to perform her first mission for the Sith on arid Geonosis. Plagueis and Sidious had been in contact with Poggle the Lesser only a day or two prior, and while the rebel leader had succeeded in holding his position against Hadiss for the six standard months asked of him, it had been clear to both Sith Lords that Poggle's forces were on the verge of splintering.

"If Hadiss is victorious, he will not feel beholden to us," Plagueis had said. "Even if we dispatch Moore now to slay Poggle and his leadership, Hadiss will think the battle won by his strength of arms."

"Then Moore must succeed and ensure Poggle's victory," Sidious had replied, unconcerned. "She has survived a year on Vjun. She is capable of this."

Plagueis had turned on him with yellow eyes gleaming. "I hope that you are correct, Darth Sidious. I have never before had cause to question your judgement. I would not wish to start now."

Sidious bristled with anger even now at the memory of those words. Plagueis had never voiced any doubt in him for over twenty years, not since Sidious and Sate Pestage had rescued him from the Maladians in the Fobosi District. What was it about Moore, Sidious wondered, that made Plagueis so doubtful of her abilities and, by extension, Sidious's choice of her as a weapon for the Sith? The Umbaran was strong in the Force, steeped in darkness, and a born killer.

Was it perhaps that Plagueis scented danger? Did he perhaps foresee a day when Sidious might, in concert with Moore, oust Plagueis and take sole mastery of the Sith? But if that was the case then why had Plagueis never felt the same threat when Sidious had commanded Maul?

The questions chased themselves around Sidious's mind, and he resolved to be more mindful in his dealings with both Moore and Plagueis in the future. In the meantime, however, he could feel Moore's anguish at his trickery across the stars. And he smiled to himself.

* * *

Night had fallen on Vjun when the _Scimitar_ touched down at the landing pad of Bast Castle. Alone in the ship, Sidious activated the boarding ramp, then descended down it, his black robe and hood quickly becoming soaked by the never-ceasing rainfall. He could feel its acidity burn the skin of his hands and face, but he paid it little mind. He had suffered far worse pains in his life; it was the way of the Sith.

Striding into the castle, he extended his senses in every direction through the Force, seeking out Moore. He had expected her to be waiting for him at the landing pad, eager to see if he was real this time, or perhaps to extract her revenge. But he could not sense her anywhere in the first few rooms he looked in. Nor was she on the rampart where his projection had left her several standard days earlier.

He half-considered calling for her, but instead he released a powerful wave of the Dark Side. Small insectoids scurried away from him in panic, and from beyond the walls of the fortress he saw a family of Vjun Foxes leave their den and run from the terrible predator that their senses told them was suddenly nearby.

But Moore did not come.

Unperturbed, Sidious sat cross-legged on the stone floor of the rampart, and resolved to wait until the Umbaran appeared. Intermittently he sent out more waves of Dark Side energy, knowing that wherever she was hiding, Moore would feel the ripples in the Force as though she were in a storm-tossed sea.

A blur moved at the corner of Sidious's peripheral vision, and he raised his hands to unleash a crackle of blue lightning just as Moore leapt for him, fingers curled into claws and teeth bared. The blast of electrical energy caught her in the torso, and she was thrown backward, groaning in pain but conscious and alive.

"A standard year here," Sidious said with a sneer as he stood over the Umbaran, "and your wits have fled you. Did you not recognise me, Moore? Did you not see who it was who had come to take you away from this place forever?"

"You have been gone too long," Moore said in reproach. "A standard year, you said. That passed days ago. Where were you?"

Sidious bristled, and allowed lightning to spark at his fingertips again.

"I was occupied. The Dark Lord of the Sith is not a being who can be summoned by an Umbaran acolyte on a whim. I trusted you to remain here and to retain your sanity and your intelligence and your dark instincts while I attended to matters in the wider galaxy." He paused for effect. "Have you failed me, Sly?"

The Umbaran rose only to drop to her knees.

"Never, master, never. I swear. But you were here … before … but not real. I did not understand."

"Perhaps you are not the disciple I sought, after all," Sidious said. "A pity. A setback, true, but I can replace you easily enough. I shall make your end quick."

Sidious even went so far as to activate his lightsaber before Moore threw herself to the ground before him.

"I am your slave, Lord Sidious. I did not mean to disappoint you. I swear to you, I shall never again fail you."

"High words, Moore," Sidious said in the same sneering tone of dismissal. "But will you be able to keep your promise to me?"

"I will, master. I will."

Sidious appraised the Umbaran for a long moment. She was strong in body and in the Force, and she was ready to kill or to die at his command and whim. Yes, he decided. She would suffice.

"You are to return with me to Coruscant," Sidious said. "There I will tell you all that you need to know. I have prepared a residence for you. It mimics your homeworld, I am confident that you will find it comfortable. And then, once you have rested and recovered your strength from this long ordeal, you will go to Geonosis."

"Geonosis?"

"Have you heard of it?"

Moore nodded. "A desert world, master. Inhabited by insects."

"Correct," said Sidious. "You are to infiltrate the headquarters of the one that calls himself Archduke, a verminous usurper named Hadiss. Kill Hadiss, and his commanders, then deliver their bodies to the Geonosian rebel leader named Poggle the Lesser. He will know their significance."

Moore bowed her head so low that it almost touched the ground.

"I am yours to command, Lord Sidious."

Sidious extended his hand to her, just as his projection had done. But this time, when Moore tentatively reached out, her fingers met solid flesh.


	10. Servants of Death

**Chapter Ten**

 **Servants of Death**

Sequestered in the laboratory complex on Aborah, Plagueis and the droid 11-4D studied a holorecording of the day, a standard decade or so previously, that Plagueis had succeeded in resurrecting Darth Venamis. Kept comatose for decades within the hidden sanctuary on Muunilinst, Venamis's life force had only left him when Plagueis had allowed it to do so. Then, at his command, Venamis's midi-chlorians had resurrected their host, who had been brought back to life repeatedly before finally expiring past the point that Plagueis could influence the midi-chlorians to disobey the natural will of the Force.

Venamis's corpse, still in Plagueis's possession, floated in a tank of preservative fluid, and the Bith looked almost exactly as he had done more than three standard decades when he had challenged Plagueis – fatally, as it had turned out – on Sojourn.

Plagueis's mind raced with thought as he watched the holovid, and he wondered whether he had made sufficient strides in his search for immortality. At present he was constantly exhorting his midi-chlorians to rejuvenate his body at the cellular level, to keep him physically fit and healthy. But Plagueis could not help but wonder if there was a way that he could ensure that the midi-chlorians performed this task on their own, without his intervention. In theory, this would first put a permanent halt to Plagueis's ageing, and then subsequently reverse it, as the midi-chlorians, growing more proficient at their task, became able to rejuvenate his cells before they died.

Plagueis had intended to share his breakthrough with Sidious. But his onetime apprentice was showing all the hallmarks of a Sith Lord of the Rule of Two, acquiring dark acolytes to do his bidding and – Plagueis could never banish this thought for long – perhaps training them to assist in Plagueis's overthrow and Sidious's ascendancy as sole Dark Lord.

That they had agreed years prior to abandon the old doctrine of Darth Bane, to rule as equal, immortal masters of a galaxy-spanning empire. Plagueis had always assumed that Sidious had intended to keep faith in that arrangement, but it would be a foolish Sith Lord indeed who did not at least consider the possibility of betrayal.

And then there had been the night that Maul had been killed, before Sidious's election as Chancellor and his subsequent appointment of Plagueis to serve alongside him.

Plagueis could not be sure, owing to copious alcohol consumption and the powerful waves of the Dark Side that had emanated from Naboo when Maul had been struck down, but he had suspected at the time, and still did, that Sidious had been on the verge of unleashing the Dark Side against Plagueis in a lethal attack. But even with his suspicions, Plagueis could not bring himself to believe that Sidious, who knew so well the importance of the Grand Plan and of the roles that the two of them had to play in its execution, would scupper decades – centuries, even – of careful preparation in the name of a thousand year-old outdated doctrinal error. Sidious and he existed in a mutually beneficial relationship, and had done ever since they had first met on Naboo over three standard decades previously.

What possible motive could Sidious have to wish Plagueis dead? Not ambition, surely. He was already Dark Lord of the Sith, Chancellor of the Republic, and soon enough to be one half of a duumvirate that would wield total and unbridled power. Plagueis had given Sidious, as far as he could tell, everything he had ever desired; power both in the Force and in the mundane world.

Plagueis thought back, through the decades, to the day that he had taken his place as the ruling Dark Lord of the Sith. He thought back to Bal'demnic, to the moment that the Dark Side had whispered to him that Darth Tenebrous's usefulness had exhausted itself, and of how the Bith had died at his hand. Had the Dark Side whispered similarly to Sidious? But how can it have done, when Plagueis himself was in daily commune with it? Surely, he would have had some forewarning, some intonation of Sidious's intentions.

But with Moore's training as a Dark Side acolyte now commencing, and Sidious presumably meaning to train more Dark Side adepts as well, Plagueis had begun to consider whether he might not do the same. And, contrary to Sidious, might he do well to keep the existence of his acolytes and disciples a secret from his fellow Sith Lord? It was certainly an avenue to consider. But first, he would need to identify potential recruits. And that would take time.

"FourDee," he said to the droid as the holorecording flickered into invisibility, "contact San Hill via the usual discreet channels. Inform him that I wish to meet with him in one standard week. Inform him, also, that he is to invite his new Kaleesh enforcer to the meeting. He intrigues me."

* * *

The Kaleesh warrior Qymaen jai Sheelal looked startlingly out of place in the boardroom of the InterGalactic Banking Clan's headquarters in the Muunilinst capital of Harnaidan. Out of the large windows, in a skyscraper high above the urban sprawl, Hego Damask could gaze on buildings hewn from Muunilinst's distinctive green stone, and designed to evoke a sense of an elegant past long-since forgotten. Here was wealth, refinement and the power of finance made manifest. And juxtaposed to it all, staring out at him from behind a mask fashioned from the skull of one of his own people, was a being more suited to life in a jungle, and whose primary currency was the lives of his enemies and targets.

Nonetheless, Damask remained unfailingly polite, and even – he flattered himself – was doing a reasonable job of feigning a slight nervousness in the Kaleesh's presence. Though Damask knew that if it were ever to come to blows between them, Sheelal would be dead in a heartbeat.

Sitting across the table from him, beside the Kaleesh, was San Hill, who had greeted Damask like a favourite uncle when he had arrived at the IBC's headquarters. 11-4D was present as well, as were a number of Hill's IG-series lance droids for his protection, and robed and masked Red Guards for Damask's.

It was Hill who began the proceedings.

"I was pleased to receive your request for a meeting, Chancellor Damask," the younger Muun said, smiling at Damask even as his Kaleesh enforcer continued to glare in stoic and furious silence. "What can I do for you?"

Damask appraised Hill for a moment before saying, "You can do nothing, Hill. Your associate, however, can do much for me."

Hill and Sheelal regarded each other with surprise before both of them turned the same expression on Damask.

"Sheelal?" Hill asked in a tone of complete bewilderment. "I did not know he was even on your scanners, Chancellor. What service can he render you?"

Damask steepled his long fingers and sat back in his chair. "He can furnish me with crucial information regarding the treatment of his world by the Republic and the Jed-"

He was interrupted by a bestial, guttural snarl from the Kaleesh. 11-4D registered the sound with alarm, and the Red Guards took a small step forward, though stopped themselves when the Kaleesh made no further move or sound.

"The Jedi Order," Damask finished. "I understand that he feels a great injustice as done, and as Chancellor of the Republic I would see it redressed."

This time the Kaleesh did not restrain himself. He snarled again, then launched immediately into a venomous diatribe.

"Our world was left to die!" he shouted, his anger evident even in the Force. "Those karking insects invaded our home, slaughtered our people and would have wiped us out if not for us!"

Damask knew that by 'us', the Kaleesh was referring both to himself and to his fellow warrior and lover, Ronderu lij Kummar. He knew, too, from reports furnished by 11-4D that Kummar had been killed during the war, and that Sheelal's rage and grief at the loss had led to the deaths of thousands of Yamr'ii. Sheelal had led the Kaleesh to victory on their homeworld, and then begun to take the fight to the Yamr'ii planet of Huk, at which juncture the insectoids had prevailed upon the Senate and the Jedi. Chancellor Valorum had imposed harsh sanctions on Kalee, and a task force of fifty Jedi Knights had been sent to Kalee to bring an end to Sheelal's campaign of vengeance.

How the Kaleesh had come to be in the employ of Hill and the Banking Clan was something that Damask was not yet entirely sure of. But he suspected that the Kaleesh might be strong in the Force. His martial talents certainly attested to the theory. And, Damask reasoned, even if he was not then he was still a highly skilled and deadly warrior, who now nursed a personal vendetta and burning hatred for the Republic and the Jedi. He could hardly have wished for a more perfect candidate to lead the armies that the Jedi would fight against in the coming war that he and Sidious were slowly fomenting.

"How can the Republic make this right?" Damask asked the Kaleesh. "I am not Chancellor Valorum. The sanctions were not my policy. I am sure that they can be relaxed, or even lifted altogether."

Sheelal made a noise deep in his throat that Damask knew to be a dismissive gesture roughly equivalent to a Human ejecting saliva onto the ground.

"Lifting sanctions will not bring back the lost generations of Kalee," he hissed furiously. "It will not bring back my wives, my children, my love. There can be no recompense, Muun, without bloodshed."

Damask regarded Sheelal for several moments more before speaking.

"You wish for me to offer you lives?"

"I do."

Damask paused for a moment longer before addressing the room at large.

"All of you, leave us. I would like to speak privately with Qymaen jai Sheelal."

The IG droids and 11-4D made to leave immediately, but the Red Guards hesitated and San Hill began to protest.

"Chancellor … Hego … he is not …"

"I said, leave us. Do you need to hear it a third time?"

At that, Hill and the Guards left, leaving Damask and Sheelal alone in the office room.

"You require bloodshed," Damask said. "I can understand that. And I can provide it."

From behind the skull mask, Sheelal's eyes seemed to glitter with a kind of feral greed, though he still seemed doubtful.

"What can you offer me, Muun? A few animals to hunt on an unpopulated world? Combat to the death in a Geonosian or Rattataki arena? I want more than death, I want _revenge_."

"And I will offer you the Jedi."

Sheelal seemed genuinely shocked.

"What?"

"The Jedi," Damask repeated. "They will be yours to hunt, to slaughter, to wipe from the face of the galaxy. All I ask is patience."

Sheelal's eyes were definitely greedy now, and so was his voice when he next spoke.

"I will wait. How long?"

Damask leaned forward in his chair.

"When war comes. You will know."

Beneath the skull mask, Damask thought he almost saw a smile on Sheelal's face. The Kaleesh nodded his agreement, then said as though in after thought, "Chairman Hill's introduction was incorrect. I am not Qymaen jai Sheelal."

"No," Damask agreed. "I know who you are, and the name you have taken, Grievous."

* * *

That part of Geonosis was just slipping into dusk as Sly Moore stepped, alone, off the loading ramp of the _Scimitar_. Sidious had gifted the ship to her, telling her that she was to consider it his repayment for her time on Vjun, and she had accepted it gratefully.

The red sand and dust of Geonosis could not have been at more remove from the terrain of Umbara, but Moore did not let the desert world discomfort her. She needed to prove herself to Sidious, now more than ever in her final test before being allowed to fully enter his service.

"Kill Hadiss and his command," Sidious had told her. "When you return, I shall have a further reward for you."

Arriving at Hadiss's hive, Moore was met at the entrance by Geonosian guards armed with stun pikes. They attempted to bar her entrance, but she snapped their spindly necks with the Force and strode inside. Dressed in tight black clothes the better to move in stealth, she walked almost silently through the tunnels of the hive, listening to the clicks and whirring speech of thousands of Geonosians. But it was Hadiss she needed to find, and she expected that she would find him at the top, surveying the planet that he believed would be his before long.

She cloaked herself in the Force, its dark power lending its aid to her subterfuge, and dispatching any Geonosian worker drones or warriors she could not avoid with the Force or with her vibroblade. On and on she went, working her way upwards through the hive, ducking in and out of alcoves, taking alternative routes to avoid large concentrations of the insectoid inhabitants, and more than once doubling back on herself when she reached a dead-end.

Ultimately, though, she found the room that she was looking for.

Hadiss was unmistakeable; he was the largest Geonosian, and sported a beard-like tendril from his face and an extra pair of wings. Surrounding him were other Geonosians, almost all of them from the warrior and noble castes, and they were all looking at a holoimage of a map of the area of Geonosis that Moore knew to be occupied by the rebel forces of Poggle the Lesser.

The Geonosians were talking in their language, and Moore could not understand them. She stepped into the room as though invited, and without saying a word impaled the nearest Geonosian on the point of her vibroblade.

Chaos reigned at once. Most of the Geonosians, including Hadiss, tried to escape from her by retreating behind an advancing line of guards, force pikes and sonic blasters raised. But with a combination of the Force and the durasteel of her blade, Moore dispatched every one of them mercilessly, as easily as she had killed the Vjun Fox the day that Sidious had appeared on the ramparts of Bast Castle. Then, she advanced on Hadiss and his cohorts, and she left none of them alive.

Hadiss was the last to die. Moore had made sure of it, made sure that he watched his allies slaughtered.

"Your death will not be quick," she said, as she sealed the door to the command room with the Force. "I will start with your wings, I think. How long will you last?"

Hadiss cried out in sheer terror, but Moore ignored him. Her purpose was dark and brutal, and she revelled in it.


	11. Found and Lost

**Chapter Eleven**

 **Found and Lost**

Waiting in the LiMerge Building, watching as a rare rainstorm hammered down on the Works, Plagueis thought back on his meeting with the Kaleesh warlord Grievous. The legendary warrior had every reason to hate the Jedi, and his skills as a combatant would be invaluable when the war that he and Sidious were planning finally broke out. But he had reflected on what he had felt coming from the Kaleesh, and had concluded that he was no Force-sensitive. While this made his talents for combat and violence all the more impressive, it did present Plagueis with a problem. He would need to find some way of allowing Grievous to combat – or at the very least, resist – offensive uses of the Force, and lightsaber training would not go amiss either.

Perhaps Darth Tyranus could be of some use in that regard, Plagueis thought. The apprentice that he and Sidious shared had spent the last several months on Serenno, ruling over the world as its Count, and Plagueis knew that the former Jedi Master was beginning to chafe under the restrictions that the post imposed upon him. Tyranus would be grateful for the chance to serve another purpose, Plagueis was certain, and his lightsaber skills had been the stuff of legend within the Jedi Order. He was the perfect being to train Grievous to fight and kill Jedi.

But Plagueis had concluded, in the weeks and months since he had met with the Kaleesh on Muunilinst, that lightsaber talent alone would be insufficient. He would need to either become Force-sensitive himself, and learn some degree of mastery over those talents, or become so cut off from the Force, so dead to it, that Forceful beings would find it difficult to affect him with it. Neither of those avenues of approach was disadvantageous, Plagueis had reasoned, and so he was willing to try both. And, if neither should work, or if the Kaleesh should prove to be reluctant to serve the Sith as a warrior and hunter, Plagueis would dispose of him as easily as cracking an egg.

His comm chattered into life, and the sound of 11-4D's voice came through to him.

"She is here, Chancellor Damask."

"Good. Send her up to me, FourDee."

"At once, sir."

Plagueis then turned to a second droid, stood behind a load-bearing wall so that it was visible to the Muun, but would not be to anyone who entered the room via the turbolift. Manufactured by Cybot Galactica, the experimental protoype holodroid had been provided to Plagueis as repayment of a favour owed to Hego Damask by Illia Setag, the Dressellian chairman of CG and a genius in the field of droid technology.

"The TC-SC unit is bleeding edge," Setag had told Damask when he had presented the gift. "It is programmed to imitate precisely the appearance and voice of any being in its databanks, with thousands of tiny holotransmittors lining its body used to create the perfect illusion. Simply input information into its memory banks, and it will be able to replicate their appearance on command."

"Most useful," Damask had commented, in complete sincerity.

Plagueis now regarded the droid, watching as it patiently awaited its instructions.

"TeeSee, activate the hologram of the Jedi Master we observed entering the Temple at dawn three standard days ago."

The droid complied, instantly replacing its own metal, skeletal body with that of an elderly diminutive Human female.

"What is your name?" Plagueis asked the droid.

"Thracia Cho Leem," came a voice which certainly did not belong to the droid. "Jedi Master and Consular of the Order."

Plagueis smiled beneath the transpirator mask and waited.

A few moments later, the door behind Plagueis opened, and a sharp-beaked, gaudily-crested female Fosh walked into the room, wearing the robes of a Jedi Knight, a lightsaber at her belt, and an expression of enraptured curiosity.

Plagueis did not turn, preferring to sense the Fosh through the Force.

"Welcome, Vergere," he said to her, and savoured her surprise even as he sensed her reach for her lightsaber. "Please, do not resort to immediately to violence. You sought me out of your own accord, did you not? The secrets of the Sith fascinate you."

Vergere hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"I confess that they do. Master Dooku's pursuit of forbidden knowledge certainly piqued my interest." She hesitated for several heartbeats. "Am I speaking with the Sith Lord who orchestrated the Blockade of Naboo? The master of the Zabrak that Master Qui-Gon defeated?"

Plagueis permitted himself a mirthless laugh, and decided to indulge himself.

"You are. What's more, you are speaking with the Sith Lord who orchestrated the assassination of the Trade Federation Directorate on Eriadu. Who equipped the Yinchorri with weapons-grade cortosis and incited them to assault the Jedi Temple. Who engineered the Stark Hyperspace War, and organised the assassinations of Vidar Kim and Pax Teem. Whose hand has been behind so many of the troubles, trials and tribulations that the Republic, the Senate and the Jedi Order have been beset with for the past thirty standard years."

He turned, his face still concealed within the cowl of his cloak. And in that moment, the Dark Side whispered to him, and Plagueis heeded its counsel.

"I am Darth Sidious, Vergere."

"There is no record in the Jedi Temple of Darth Sidious," the Fosh replied, her hand on the hilt of her lightsaber, though it was still clipped to her belt. "Nor of any Sith Lord since the time of Lord Kaan. Where have the Sith been hiding for the last thousand years?"

Once again, Plagueis laughed without humour.

"Do you honestly expect that I will betray the centuries-old secrets of my Order to one of our avowed enemies? Do I seem an ysalamir to you, Vergere, standing willingly in front of a vornskr? I thought not. No, I will not tell you those secrets of the Sith. But I do have other secrets that I may share with you. If you pledge yourself to me, and to the Dark Side, wholly, completely, and without reserve."

Vergere bowed her head and knelt on the permacrete floor of the LiMerge Building.

"I will, Lord Sidious."

"Easy words to say," Plagueis answered. "But the Sith do not depend on promises and oaths. You will prove your new loyalties."

He gestured to the droid, still disguised as the Jedi, and it stepped forward into Vergere's view.

"I have captured one of your fellows," Plagueis said as the Fosh's eyes grew wide with horror. "I sense that you know this one."

"Master Cho Leem!"

"Vergere," the droid answered weakly.

"Your master, I believe," Plagueis said to Vergere, who nodded silently. "Kill her."

"Please, Vergere," said the droid in perfect begging tones, even bringing its hands together. Setag was right, Plagueis thought. The technology really was excellent.

Vergere hesitated for several long seconds, seconds in which Plagueis kept his eyes fixed unblinkingly on her. If he had misjudged, if she was not to be so easily swayed despite the alluring pull the Dark Side had been exerting on her for years … But Tyranus had assured him that Vergere was as ripe a prospect as any member of the Order, and Plagueis was not yet ready to cut off that link forever with the crimson blade of his lightsaber.

The Fosh Jedi took her own lightsaber from her belt and ignited it, lighting up the small and derelict room with a blue shimmering glow. Plagueis could sense the turmoil within her, could sense the internal battle as she furiously debated with herself which one of them to strike down.

The blade hummed, Master Cho Leem's face looked shocked and surprised, and Vergere cried out in shock and emotional pain as she watched her master fall to the ground.

The droid sputtered and the image faded.

"I … but …" Vergere stammered.

"Your master remains safe inside the Jedi Temple," Plagueis told her with a hint of amusement in his voice. "And yet you were _willing_ to strike. That is the important thing, Vergere. You had the desire, the will and the sheer nerve. I congratulate you. Now," he added, as his fingers crackled with blue lightning, "let me show you the power of the Dark Side."

* * *

Palpatine and Damask had barely been in their office for an hour when a blue semblance of Sate Pestage appeared from the holocommunicator on his desk.

"The Jedi is here, Chancellors."

The two Sith Lords exchanged a look of wry amusement as they cloaked their Force presences in the Dark Side.

"Very good, Sate," replied Palpatine. "Send them in please."

Pestage bowed his head and the image disappeared. Within moments, the door opened, the Red Guard stood aside, and Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth entered the room. He sat before the two Chancellors, looking perfectly at ease, and reminding Palpatine strongly of Darth Tyranus in the days that he had still been Master Dooku.

"Chancellors," C'baoth said, seemingly acting as the group's main representative for the morning's discussions. "I will not prevaricate or delay. The Jedi have received disturbing intelligence."

"Of what nature, Master C'baoth?" asked Damask. "What fresh calamity has the Force seen fit to test the Republic and the Jedi with now?"

"Chancellors, I wonder if you are familiar with a world called Zonama Sekot."

"It produces uncommonly fast starships," Palpatine answered after several moments of thought. "I know that Raith Sienar has been interested in the technology involved for some time, but I confess to knowing little beyond that."

"That is true, Chancellor," C'baoth answered. "Zonama Sekot's starships are rivalled by few in the galaxy. How so remote a world, covered in jungle, and only settled in the last few standard decades should become a hub of space technology is, however, a puzzle that we have long tried to solve."

"Perhaps some of the colonists are experts in astronautics," Damask suggested, a hint of humour in his voice. "Perhaps there is an undiscovered genius working away in the jungle. A Raith Sienar of the Unknown Regions."

"The thought had occurred to the Jedi Council, Chancellor," C'baoth answered. "But there is far more to it than that. Curious thought the starships are, they are hardly the concern of the Jedi."

"Then what?" asked Palpatine, deciding to bite on C'baoth's bait.

"Something is stirring on Zonama Sekot," the elderly Human answered. "Something dark, terrible and of such consequence as nothing else. The Council cannot say if this event is past, present or future, but we must be ready for it and its ramifications, Chancellors."

Palpatine was genuinely taken aback. He had sensed nothing of the sort – at least, not from Zonama Sekot.

"What will you do about it, masters?" Damask asked, and Palpatine knew, somehow instinctively, that the Muun had sensed nothing of this either. That worried him – worried both of them.

Again, it was C'baoth who spoke.

"My proposal has not yet been accepted by the whole Council. But I have suggested a massive colonisation effort into the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. Ostensibly, this would be to promote the values of the Republic, to discover new worlds and species, and to spread the teachings of the Jedi. But in fact, Chancellors, all that would be secondary to our preparedness for what is coming. For whatever is coming, believe me when I say that we _must_ be ready."

Palpatine leaned forward, sincerely eager to hear more.

* * *

The Fosh knelt before him on the permacrete floor of the LiMerge Building, just as she had done standard weeks earlier when Plagueis had first seduced her to the Dark Side of the Force.

"I am yours to command, Lord Sidious," she said, her eyes on the ground.

"Has Master C'baoth made his feelings known among the Jedi?" Plagueis asked. "How much does the High Council know? How much would the common knight know? The padawans and younglings?"

Vergere seemed to think for several moments before answering.

"I do not truly know, master," she said eventually. "My master – I mean, Thracia Cho Leem – is not on the Council."

Plagueis sighed exasperatedly and theatrically.

"Had _you_ heard of Zonama Sekot before tonight?"

Vergere looked chastened.

"No, Darth Sidious," she replied. "I had not."

"Familiarise yourself," Plagueis commanded her. "Scour the Jedi Archives for every scrap of information you can find. For soon, you will be travelling to Zonama Sekot."

Vergere looked up in astonishment and alarm.

"Me?"

"You," Plagueis said. "I would know what it is that Master C'baoth has sensed on that world, and be ready to respond to it when it shows itself. You will be my eyes and ears on the planet, Vergere, reporting to me as soon as you find anything out of the ordinary."

Vergere looked for a moment as though she was about to argue. But then the Fosh lowered her head again and simply whispered her assent.

"You leave in a standard month, Vergere," Plagueis said. "Until then, I suggest you discover as much as you can about the jungle world that you will, from then on until I decide to recall you, call home."

* * *

The jungle was filled with the chattering cries of animals, and the occasional sound of a starship racing overhead. Vergere, alone among the trees for several standard days now, tried to centre herself and meditate on the Force. On the Dark Side, she reminded herself.

But something had been interfering with her attempts to commune with the Dark Side ever since she had first entered the Sekot System, as though a massive presence in the Force was blocking her attempts to utilise it to its full potential. Vergere was still not able to fully comprehend what it could be, but Zonama Sekot was as strong in the Force as any world she had ever set on, comparable to Coruscant or Ossus. It was close to overwhelming her, and she found her abilities to draw on it dampened and diminished.

The chattering had stopped. She had only just realised. The silence was eerie, unnatural. Wrong.

Calling her lightsaber to her hand with the Force, Vergere activated its blue blade, the hum of the weapon now the only sound in the unsettlingly still jungle. The Force continued to thrum through her, but there had been a shift in it, as though something were damming its flow.

A bush to her left rustled, and Vergere turned with a Jedi's reflexes to face whatever it was that might be coming for her. But the movement transpired to be nothing more than a reptilian-like creature that slithered along the ground in front of her. It looked up at her, paused for a moment, then moved away out of sight.

And still Vergere kept the lightsaber out and ignited. It was as though the Force had whispered to her. The moment had come. Whatever it was that Master C'baoth had sensed, Vergere somehow knew that she, at this moment in space and time, was squarely in the middle of it.

A dark shape moved at the edge of her field of vision, and Vergere turned her saber toward it. The blade hummed and thrummed with pulsing energy, and Vergere felt each vibration shake her whole arm. Or was that simple fear?

The creatures towered over her, massive and armoured in black. Their garb was of a design completely unknown to her, and their weapons seemed to resemble the serpentine creature she had seen moments before.

No, they did not merely resemble them. They _were_ the serpentine creatures. One of them was hissing and spitting at her even now, as she levelled her lightsaber and prepared to fight.

The creatures seemed to be demons from her nightmares, their faces resembling nothing so much as the skulls of humanoid species. One of them said something to its fellows, and Vergere felt a wave of powerful dread surge through her body. She called on the Force to look into the minds of the strange beings, but the Force was, for the first time in her life, completely silent.

The creatures bared their teeth, sharp and fang-like, and advanced on her. And Vergere knew, in that instant, that nothing in her world would ever again be the same.


	12. Secrets and Lies

**Chapter Twelve**

 **Secrets and Lies**

The Senate Chamber was packed to bursting point and was alive with noise and activity as it had not been since the Trade Federation had landed battle droids on the surface of Naboo more than two years prior. The news that there was a new Archduke of Geonosis following an extended interregnum was a cause of widespread political discussion and back dealing. Baktoid Combat Automata, along with the representatives of various corporate conglomerates and the worlds that they owned, were determined that Coruscant and the Core Worlds could not ignore the Mid and Outer Rims any longer.

And so their Senators, administrative aides and other delegates had staged a dramatic walkout from the Rotunda at the peroration of a speech being given by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, which had condemned the assassination of the former Archduke Hadiss and called on the worlds of the Republic to refuse to acknowledge the new Archduke – and the deceased Hadiss's rebellious enemy – Poggle the Lesser as either legitimate or legal. There had even been hints, contained within the text of the speech it seemed solely for the entertainment of those beings who followed politics the way that everyone else followed Malastare podracing, that the Jedi might be dispatched to arrest Poggle and bring him and his highest-ranking officers to Coruscant to try for war crimes.

It had been at this point that the Skakoan Foreman of the Techno Union and its representative in the Senate, Wat Tambor, sent his pod levitating into the middle of the chasm of the Rotunda, interrupting a bemused Chancellor Palpatine, receiving and ignoring a verbal rebuke from Chagrian Vice-Chancellor Mas Amedda, and even earning himself a glare from the masked and hooded Co-Chancellor Hego Damask. Only Palpatine's new aide, a bald and pale-faced Umbaran named Sly Moore, did not react at all. She simply stared unblinkingly at Tambor, who had either not noticed her or had pretended not to as he began an oration of his own.

"Colleagues, fellow Senators, Supreme Chancellors," he declaimed in a tone of defiance that rung around the chamber, "I have listened to the Supreme Chancellor denounce the Archduke of Geonosis, and I find myself astonished. Astonished that the Chancellor would countenance such language when he speaks of a ruler as sovereign as his own Queen Amidala. How would he react, I wonder, if a faction within this Senate claimed that Naboo's election had been anything less than free and fair, and that Amidala should be rejected by this body? Moreover, has the Chancellor fully acquainted himself with the activities and reputation of the former Archduke Hadiss? Perhaps the Chancellor ought to examine, again, those allegations of corruption, of war profiteering, of barbaric cruelty."

That most of these charges had, at some time or another, been laid at the feet not only of Poggle the Lesser but also of Wat Tambor seemed not to bother the Skakoan in the least, as he launched into a diatribe attacking the Chancellors' policy. By the time Tambor reached the conclusion of his speech, half the Rotunda was on its feet, and the other half was nonetheless joining them in either vocal condemnation or support of Tambor's words. Chancellor Palpatine looked visibly shaken, Damask seething. Mas Amedda bellowed for order, but his words went unheeded.

Tambor's pod floated back into its place, and seemingly taking that as their signal the representatives and staff of the Trade Federation, Commerce Guild, Corporate Alliance, Mining Guild and various weapons manufacturing cartels, as well as the representatives of Ando, the Quarren population of Mon Cala, Alliga and Zygerria, left their pods and walked out of the Rotunda. All around them came praise and vitriol, agreement and dissent, solidarity and admonition, and the holocams captured every moment of it, to broadcast across the HoloNet for trillions to see.

* * *

In her new home in the lower levels of the LiMerge Building, Sly Moore meditated on the Dark Side and let her anger flow freely through her. Her mission to Geonosis had been a complete success; Hadiss was dead, Poggle the Lesser was in command of not only the Stalgasin Hive but also of the whole irradiated planet and the droid factories that stretched for so many hundreds of kilometres beneath its barren surface.

So why was Darth Sidious not more appreciative of her efforts and her success? True he had confided in her the truth of his dual identity, and the plan that he was working toward. But that was no more than the Zabrak Maul had known. During one of the occasions when he had come to Ziost and subjected her to torture and pain, he had even told her as much.

The revelation that Sidious had been Maul's master, and that he had ordered the Zabrak to abduct her and make her suffer had filled Moore with more fury than she could ever remember feeling, and for weeks she had entertained thoughts of striking out at Sidious and killing him for his role in her ordeal. But then she had reasoned that that had been her first and cruellest test, and that Sidious had deemed her worthy to serve as his apprentice. She had hoped that Sidious might even place more faith in her than he had in Maul, might confide more to her as he instructed her in the ways of the Dark Side.

But that had not happened. Sidious had provided very little in the way of direct tutelage to her since he had located her on Ziost, except to educate her in what seemed to her abstract philosophies and doctrines of the Sith. Of Force powers, combat skills and lightsaber training she had had none. She did not even yet possess one of the glowing energy weapons that was the signature of both the Sith and the Jedi.

Moore got up from where she was sat on the permacrete floor of the room that Sidious had made into a facsimile of her native of Umbara and paced over to a large window from where she could see the spires of the Jedi Temple in the distance. She knew she ought to continue with her immersions in the Force, as no doubt the Jedi were doing at that very moment in the Temple. Or, if not meditating, that she ought to be practicing her combat manoeuvres, both with fist and foot and with the vibroblade. She knew that that would meet with some measure of Sidious's approval, certainly more than he would approve of her staring out across Coruscant imagining herself wielding a crimson-bladed lightsaber and bringing death to Jedi Knights and Masters.

But when Moore reflected on the events of Geonosis, her thoughts were not on the deaths she had brought to Hadiss and his cohorts. What she dwelt on instead was the feeling of participation that the mission had afforded her, of being a part of her master's Grand Plan, and the opportunity that it had afforded her to draw on her powers of the Dark Side and her skills at arms. On her return to Coruscant, Sidious had offered her praise, and she supposed that that and the revelation about his identity was supposed to have been reward enough for her. But the inescapable truth was that it had not been, that Moore craved more than the words and platitudes that Sidious had offered her.

If her mission to Geonosis had led immediately to another, then Moore might well have been content with the reward that Sidious had offered her for Hadiss's death. But the fact that for months now she had been ordered to remain on Coruscant, alternating her time between the LiMerge Building and masquerading as Sidious's aide in the Senate, grated with Moore, as did the fact that Sidious had been reticent about his immediate future plans with her.

Moore had at least been able to witness first-hand the results of her mission to Geonosis in the Senate Rotunda, when Wat Tambor had led the walkout of several dozen Senators and their staff, but that seemed to be compensation of the meanest sort. Sidious had assured her that Tambor had been acting on his orders, and that her actions had furthered the Sith Grand Plan. But Moore nonetheless felt ill-used and under-appreciated, and was finding it increasingly difficult to do as her master commanded and remain on-world.

In an effort to do something constructive with what felt like limitless free time, Moore had taken to studying the layout of Galactic politics and the criminal underworld. She had learned that some of the criminal cartels were allied to Darth Sidious, others unwitting pawns in his plans, and some of them targets on a list of future enemies to be eliminated. She grasped, too, that Darth Sidious's true enemy was not the Republic but the Jedi Order, but she was no closer to knowing precisely how the Sith Grand Plan of revenge was to be achieved.

However, she was not entirely without hope or prospect, for Sidious had recently hinted at a forthcoming mission of great importance. And that it would involve the Jedi.

* * *

"Tambor could not have performed his task better," Damask remarked to Palpatine as they sat together in the Muun's apartment suite at the pinnacle of Kaldani Spires. "With this show of defiance and dissent, he has exposed the fractures in the Senate and the Republic for the whole Galaxy to see."

"He performed admirably," Palpatine agreed, nodding and accepting a glass of Haidoral brandy from 11-4D. "It was almost as if he had constructed the arguments himself."

Damask smiled with humour. "The Stalgasin Hive will no doubt appreciate his words and the display of support from so many in the Rotunda. We have sown the seeds of the Republic's destruction, Darth Sidious."

"Darth Bane sowed them, Lord Plagueis," Palpatine appended. "We are tending to the garden, and the time of bearing fruit is nearly at hand."

Damask raised his glass in a toast or salute.

"We must contact Lord Tyranus," Palpatine continued. "Serenno might hold an attraction for him but he must show himself on more worlds besides. He must give HoloNet interviews. He must make his feelings about the Republic known and create a storm of discontent and mutiny in the Outer Rim."

"This cannot be rushed, Darth Sidious," Damask said. "This must take its time to foment and must be years in coming. The war cannot begin until the clone army is ready, and we should not have the forces that will be arraigned against them ready for too long before them."

"Are we still committed to droid soldiers?"

"We are. The Geonosians' loyalty has made sure of that. Their factories and those on Murkhana, Hypori and other worlds will churn out enough battle droids to challenge the Kaminoan clones and the Jedi Order both. Besides," Damask went on, "it was ordained by the Force. I have told you about the Iktotchi on Saleucami, not long before the Force brought you and I together. Machines of alloy and machines of flesh. I remember the words precisely."

"And what if the droid armies should prove too much for the clones and the Jedi?"

Damask shrugged, apparently unconcerned.

"You saw what happened on Naboo, when Skywalker destroyed the command computer. We will do the same thing on a galactic scale." Damask considered for a moment then said, "On Mustafar, I think, at one of the mining complexes owned by Damask Holdings. It is remote enough that it can go undetected by the Republic, and it will be no challenge to send Moore or another agent of our own there should we need to."

A silence fell between them for several moments before Palpatine changed the subject of the conversation.

"What shall we do about Amedda?"

Damask was surprised.

"Amedda? He is of no concern."

Palpatine shook his head, looking serious.

"He is of no great intelligence but we cannot discount his role in this. He is Vice-Chancellor, we cannot be seen to snub him. And I think he suspects something about our enterprise."

Damask stood, suddenly alert at Palpatine's words.

"What makes you think so?"

"A sense. I have no physical proof but I trust the Force. We could eliminate him."

Damask shook his head and said, "That would raise too many questions. But he cannot be allowed to discover the truth and report it to the Jedi. The simplest solution would be to have him removed from office, but then he might prove vindictive."

He thought hard for a moment, his brilliantly analytical mind working so hard that Palpatine could almost hear it.

"He cannot be permitted to tell the Jedi. But I see no reason why he should not learn the truth. He will be cowed into submission, and he will mistake our apathy for trust and be all the more loyal to us as a result."

Palpatine looked alarmed.

"He is an idealist, nostalgic for the days of Tarsus Valorum."

"He is an idealist, yes," Damask agreed. "But I think he is less wedded to democratic ideals than he pretends to be – perhaps even believes himself to be. I believe he could easily be persuaded of the merits of a strong government, a system free of corruption and the bickering of the Senate."

The two of them were quiet for a heartbeat as they both dwelt on these words.

"How can we be sure?" Palpatine asked.

"We will put him to the test," Damask answered simply. "Let him discover what we truly are and watch as his desire for order – how he is fond of that word – overwhelms any desire to see democracy upheld."

Palpatine said nothing for several heartbeats. Then he said, simply, "I hope that you are right, Darth Plagueis."


End file.
